A Sisyphean Endeavor
by MagicMight
Summary: Harry returns to Hogwarts after a grueling summer of self-recovery thanks to abuse done to him at the hands of his Uncle Vernon. With the help of an unsuspecting Professor, he begins to find himself (as well as love) through someone he previously loathed. Contains abuse, coarse language, sexual themes, and a teacher/student relationship. AU 6th Year, eventual slash. SS/HP.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or the world in which this is happening-that credit goes to J.K Rowling!

I try to stay in canon with the characters as best as I can, though, no one could ever write them as good as Rowling! Some events after OOTP are disregarded, though not all.

If you are looking for a happy ending, this is probably not the story for you.

This story is rated M-while I don't often go into very deep detail, there are mentions of abuse: physical, mental, as well as (in this chapter) sexual. Mild cursing ahead.

If you aren't into that sort of thing, you should probably stop reading right about now!

* * *

Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this hopeless.

Sirius was _dead_. The closest thing he'd had to family, and he'd only known him two years-most of which had been spent in sparse letters back and forth, the occasional fire-chat and, more often than not, a constant_ fear_ of wondering whether or not he'd ever hear from him again. He didn't have to be afraid now. Sirius was dead, and it was all his fault.

Harry pressed down further against the stain that had been left behind on the carpet last night. It was strange-Dumbledore had told him once that his blood was valuable. Voldemort himself had used it to return his body back to him...and yet, the Dursley's-or rather, Vernon Dursley, seemed to have no qualms over spilling Harry's blood himself.

He could still feel the sting of his backhand and the way it split his lip, the collision of his fist against his cheekbone and the skin-on-skin sound it had made had been loud enough to rack his teeth in his skull. It was his own bloody fault, and _no_, he wasn't making excuses for the abuse-he really shouldn't have spoken back like he had. He knew what to expect now, didn't he? Staying at Privet Drive had been shit all his life, but it wasn't until after his third year that his Uncle truly seemed bent on driving the message home.

_You're not welcome here, you freak! Since the moment you were dumped like a sack of rags on our doorstep you've done nothing but take from us, cause us trouble, and waste every resource your aunt and I have deigned to give you!_

Punctuated by grunts and a kick to the ribs, another to the spine-they'd left him there. Left him on the floor all night and when his aunt had roused him in the morning with a few sharp shoves, he knew the rest of the summer would go much like it had the first four weeks. If not _worse_ than this. He had wanted to go to the Weasley's. He knew this summer would be a rough one-especially with the way last summer had ended with his Uncle stripping him down and-

Harry shoved the thought from his mind and reached with a shaky hand to rinse out the cloth he was using to buff the stain from light pink to an even lighter pink-at least it was coming out. The last thing he needed was Uncle Vernon coming home to the sight of him still working on getting the stain out.

He'd been very clear in his demands.

He scrubbed harder, scrubbed until his arms were aching from the stress of it and his fingertips were red and raw. The stain was nearly gone-but nearly wouldn't be good enough. The best Harry could do was throw a mat over it and hope for it to go overlooked.

As he pushed himself to his feet, Harry faintly pretended he could hear the scratching of Hedwig at the window. He'd taken to doing this lately, pretending that someone had sent Hedwig back to him with a letter promising they'd get him soon, that they hadn't forgotten about him here. Harry had sent the bird off the night they'd arrived before Vernon had the chance to figure out what to do with her. They couldn't bloody well lock the owl in the cupboard and so Harry had been granted some reprieve with the birds company for a few days-until things had gotten bad enough that Harry had sent her off to Ron in hopes that at least his familiar could make it out this unscathed.

Harry reached immediately for the edge of the table in the hall to steady himself as he swayed and came precariously close to fainting-he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. Forcing the black spots from his eyes, Harry moved one foot in front of the other and carried the bucket of soapy water along with him, all whilst trying not to notice that he felt absolutely dead on his feet.

_Save the world a whole lot of bloody trouble if it were true._

Someone else would be far more capable of killing Voldemort. Perhaps if he was dead Dumbledore would come up with a new plan, fuck the prophecy. It couldn't very well matter if he was dead, could it? Neither can live while the other survives, but was that to say they couldn't both die?

Once he'd finished cleaning up and putting everything away, Harry sought out Aunt Petunia.

"I've finished cleaning, Aunt Petunia," his voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

Petunia didn't even acknowledge him. Not so much as a nod of the head or a glimpse in his direction. Harry took that as a dismissal. He was done for the day. Taking the stairs two at a time, Harry quietly closed the door behind himself and dropped onto his bed. It would have been nice to sleep, if his sleep wasn't constantly rocked by visions of Voldemort, the replay of Sirius falling through the veil, and his Uncle in all his horrifying rage-

He was asleep before he could talk herself out of it any further.

The corridor was long. He was running, sprinting, he knew if he could just reach the end he would reach Sirius and Cedric, he would reach his parents, he would reach everyone in harms way and put an end to their suffering. If he could just make it there, he could save them, he could kill Voldemort-he could fulfill what he was meant for. The only reason he was even here.

Suddenly he couldn't breathe, there were snakes around his neck, two of them, monstrous and spitting as they tightened and cut off any sound he might have made to call for help.

_Professor Snape!_ He could see him closer than all the others, if he could just call out to him, he would help-he'd tried to help with the Occlumency, no? As disastrous as that had been, he had _tried_. The snakes were getting tighter, Voldemort was in front of him then, pulling back his wand, screeching the words, a blinding green light, his mother screaming, begging, pleading-

And then the snakes around his neck were hands, real hands. Meaty and large, clammy and tight around his throat. It wasn't Voldemort in front of him now, it was his Uncle.

He clawed at them, tried to pull the hands from his throat, it wasn't until the panic had started to take him under that he released him with a callous laugh and held him back against the bed with one hand pressed firmly against his neck. Not a warning. A promise.

"What did I ruddy well tell you about the carpet? Hm? I won't have your pathetically disgusting excuse for existence muddying up my home. No, I told you what would happen. You're a fucking disgrace, just like your mother-she was a whore, getting pregnant the way she did, with that fucking deadbeat drunk father of yours! You should be glad we took you in, and instead you choose the same poor life as they chose. I'm glad they're dead-they deserved it, your kind deserves it-you deserve worse."

The slap was expected, and nothing compare to a _cr__uciatus_.

The way Vernon next grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him from the bed sharply to his knees was not. Harry didn't know what was happening until he'd reached for the buckle on his belt and was yanking it sharply from his trousers.

"Get your shirt off, you good for nothing slut."

Harry froze then, if his Uncle expected Harry to make this easy for him-

"Get it off!" His scream cut through him, and the lash his belt buckle made against his cheek was enough to have Harry reeling away in agony. Vernon yanked him up by the hair again and tore his shirt over Harry's head himself. Harry immediately, reflexively moved to cover himself, he felt entirely exposed, more naked than he'd ever felt in his life.

Vernon stalked around him and let out a cold, bone-chilling laugh. For the first time in a long time, Harry was sure his Boggart would no longer be a Dementor, but _this_ image of Vernon.

He was sure of it as Vernon's belt cut sharply into the flesh of his back back with a slash so violent he could feel the welt burning all throughout the rest of his body. It happened again, and again-it happened until Harry's entire back felt numbed to each lash as it was dealt to him.

It wasn't until he hit the floor face down that he realized Vernon had finally stopped whipping him and was instead working the button on his pants, panting as he lowered himself over Harry, his heavy breath hot and ragged against his ear.

"Fucking whores get what they deserve-" He spat as he pawed roughly against Harry's skin. Harry struggled hard then, despite the burning in his back, but Vernon only laughed at the meager protests and worked Harry's too-large jeans over his hips. Harry was desperate then, he shouted for Aunt Petunia, even called for Dudley. No one came.

When Vernon thrust into him, he felt like he'd been torn apart. He could feel the pain as it cut through him, but only for a moment before he found himself pulled from it, dissociated in a way as if he were witnessing the experience from above. Each time Vernon thrust after that, the pain was dull and barely-there. Harry didn't realize he'd lost consciousness until Vernon was yanking him over and spending himself against his stomach.

"Clean yourself up," Vernon spat at after he buckled himself back into his pants and looked all too satisfied with himself as he looked down on the pathetic sight he'd left behind, "Disgraceful."

And Harry knew it was true, he did, he did,_ he did_. He didn't need to hear it.

Not for the first time that summer, nor would it be the last, Harry wished for death.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Neither the characters, nor this world, are mine-they belong to J.K Rowling.

Once again, this story contains themes of abuse (mental, physical, and sexual). This chapter contains mild abust and coarse language.

Er...happy reading?

* * *

"You can't truly think that's a good idea, Albus."

"Ah, but I do, Severus. My dear boy, I know Occlumency didn't end well for you and Harry last year-but now is as vulnerable a time as any. I would truly like for you to resume lessons this year, as a favor to me."

"Because I'm not already doing you plenty of favors-and you think this is smart? What with all the help I'll be giving Mr. Malfoy? Another favor you require of me, need I remind you?" Severus raised his eyebrow at the Headmaster, like he could somehow persuade him from this ridiculous notion as simply as that. Severus didn't know why he suddenly thought what he had to say was important to the Headmaster, in this regard, it never had been before.

"I think you'll find it in yourself to separate yourself from Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter with _ease,_" said Albus, and (as Severus noted with mild disdain) there was that tell-all twinkle in Dumbledore's blue eyes. He wasn't going to budge on this.

"There's no doubt about that-the differences between them both are astounding. For one, Mr. Malfoy isn't an insufferable brat with a hero-complex and an arrogance that would make Gilderoy Lockhart-" if he was going to do it, he didn't have to enjoy it, this wasn't something he was able to resign to so easily. And if Potter didn't prove himself worthy of such efforts on Snape's own part...

"Severus." Albus spoke in warning then, cutting Snape's tirade short. A good thing too, Severus had far more to contribute, as he often always did. He felt trapped into this, as he often was whenever Albus had made up his mind.

Severus let out a long, pained sigh and slowly began to stand, "If that will be all, Albus?"

"Actually..." The Headmaster trailed off and let his eyes find Snape's before him as his hands came to a bridge and the tips of his fingers just barely touched, revealing the blackened hand that Severus had already expended energy trying to...save, if you will.

"You're not serious-"

"I've received a number of owls from a grievously worried Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," Albus continued with no attention payed to Snape's protest. He was, clearly, serious.

"And?" The boredom in Severus's voice was not lost on the Headmaster.

"And, Miss Granger, too. Remus Lupin and Hagrid have come to me as well-"

"Are you nearing the point, Albus, or must I sit through a list of Potter's only friends before you get there?"

Albus raised his eyebrow at Severus but said nothing, as unobtrusive a request for respect as he could make in that moment without crossing Severus too far. "It seems Harry's owl, Hedwig, showed up at the start of the summer holiday with no letter from Harry, nor has he responded to the number of letters they've sent. Miss Granger tried to make a phone call and was told Harry was dead-"

"_Dead?_ Surely-"

"I have no doubt that Harry is still alive, do you truly think I would be here if not? Though, even you must admit, Severus, it is troubling-"

"Must _I_ admit it's troubling? Have I not been telling you how troubling Potter is, how troubling he's been since he stepped foot into Hogwarts-"

"Enough, Severus." Headmaster Dumbledore bridged his fingertips together just under the front of his chin. "You will bring ensure Harry is safe and escort him to the Burrow tomorrow evening. That will be all." The dismissal in Dumbledore's voice was enough to have Severus sweeping from the room without another word, all black cloaked and furious.

Severus made the journey across the grounds swiftly-he'd walked it only an hour ago when the Headmaster had fire-called him halfway through a novel he found most becoming. Of course, the Headmaster had no regards for the fact that this was supposed to be his vacation time as well. Leave it to Albus Dumbledore to have him trailing after _Potter_, of all students during summer holiday simply because the Boy-Who-Lived was having trouble responding to his letters. As if he didn't have enough coddling already-

Alas, no. Severus had seen firsthand some of Potter's...unusual upbringing. Chased by dogs, his morbidly obese cousin and those brute friends, the chores-there was no doubt Potter wasn't _coddled_-but Severus himself had seen _worse_ in some of his own students. If he was to be rescuing the Chosen One from chores, he wasn't about to enjoy it when his time could be spent better elsewhere.

* * *

Harry could hardly stand, the pain was so debilitating, but he forced himself under a scalding stream of water until his skin had been rubbed raw. Until every inch of him had been torn by a washcloth and was ready for another round of scrubbing. He couldn't get the feel of-of _it _off of him. The hands, the heavy, sweaty chest, the panting in his ear, hot and sticky-the thought of how he'd just been defiled had Harry dry heaving empty stomach-fulls over the drain.

He had nothing to sick-up.

Harry struggled to get out of the shower, and when he had finally made it back to his room he shoved his clothing under the loose floorboard he'd once used to store his essentials before his Uncle had begun locking _everything_ in the cupboard under the stairs as soon as he stepped foot inside Number 4.

Harry tentatively pulled on fresh clothes and tried his best not to wince as the fabric of his shirt caught against the sticky film of blood that was fresh on his back from the lashing of his Uncle belt and where the buckle had caught his skin. Harry gingerly pulled his pants on next before he curled himself up into the tiniest ball he could manage to wait out the rest of the night and the early morning before he would have to face his own personal hell again.

Aunt Petunia had slid two slices of toast through the cat flap, along with a lukewarm glass of milk. Harry finished both off so quickly that his stomach turned and he struggled to keep the meager meal down, a bitterness in his throat that made him want to throw up all over the Dursley's fucking carpet-

Creaking stairs had Harry launching out of bed, standing at the ready even though his rigid posture shot off serious pangs of protest through him. It was Saturday. That meant his Uncle would be home, which meant there was a one in three chance it would be him visiting Harry next.

"We're going out, boy. When we get home, all the chores had better be finished-unless you want to have another go-" The sickening smirk on his Uncle's face was enough to have Harry enraged, uncontrolled-he could feel a venomous hatred spiking in him just then, a feeling he'd only ever gotten when he stood before Voldemort himself.

Harry lunged then, he couldn't hold himself back, with his fists flying, he caught Vernon sharp in the jaw and aimed again for his Uncle's temple. For a moment, Harry was sure he was besting him, Harry was sure that he could handle this-

-and then he was seeing stars.

The kicks that racked through his body were enough to keep him alert, his yelps had alerted Dudley and Aunt Petunia who were watching disdainfully in their best Sunday clothes.

"Vernon, leave the freak, we'll be late."

_Aunt Petunia, giving me a reprieve? What has the world come to?_ Harry thought bitterly as one last shattering blow took him in the ribs and kept him on the floor, even as he heard his bedroom door lock and the Dursley's car pull out of the driveway.

He physically couldn't find it in himself to move. His whole body ached. Every fucking piece of him was a constant reminder of what his Uncle had _done_ to him-Vernon had finally crossed a line he'd only toed with disgusting precision before. Harry felt a moisture in his eyes and berated himself for it. He could not-would not allow himself to cry over it, over what Vernon had reduced him to.

_Nothing but a disgusting, grimy little slut, forever grubbing for more, arrogant, weak-_

As he tried to pull himself from the insults, he tried to push himself to his feet as well, but something shifted and snapped accordingly, reducing him back to the weakened heap of trash he was.

_Fuck it, then_, Harry thought bitterly to himself as he lay in a heap on his bedroom floor. He had hours till the Dursley's would be back-and Vernon had locked him in his room anyway, there wasn't much at all that he could do but prepare himself for what Vernon would reduce him to when he arrived home. If only he had his fucking wand-he'd face expulsion, he didn't care about that anymore. It was _Vernon Dursley_ he wanted to maim in the worst of ways.

He drifted off somewhere between imagining his Uncle cowering in fear because Harry had pulled his wand on him and being back at Hogwarts in a bed that wouldn't feel like a pile of rocks beneath him, a warm meal three times a day...

For once, he did not dream, and sleep was a peaceful thing, something he found he was enjoying too much, rather, and might have lost himself to it entirely if it wasn't for the incessant scraping on the window-

"WHAT?!" Harry shouted and launched himself to his feet, more angry with himself for being so keen on the idea of truly sleeping forever, and all that it meant, than he was angry with the owl scratching at his-

_Owl?!_

Harry hurried to his window and threw it open, the bars Vernon had put on his second year were long since gone and had never been replaced-but his Uncle's threats had been enough to keep Hedwig locked up. Owl post came far and few between anyway-he couldn't possibly imagine who would be owling him now-a jet black owl, one he'd never seen before swooped in gingerly and stuck out its foot. There was something very no-nonsense about this bird, for as soon as Harry had untied the scroll of parchment from its leg, it was taking off again.

He was too distracted unfurling his letter to take too much note of the bird as if flew off-and after that he was too fucking _shocked_ at who it was from to do anything.

_I will be collecting you at half past seven o'clock, sharp. _

_Be packed and prepared to go, or you will not go at all._

_S. Snape._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the character, nor the world they are in, that belongs to J.K Rowling!

Warning in this chapter for physical abuse and cursing.

To be totally honest, guys, this was so not something I had planned on publishing but then I figured why the fuck not, right? It's no where near my best work, and all of it reads a bit rushed but fill in with your imagination or something if you find it lacking ;) And hey, let me know if you think I should bother continuing with it, or not!

* * *

Harry re-read the letter three times over before snapping out of the temporary paralysis it had stunned him into.

Panic set in first when he realized all his things were locked away and he had no means of getting to them, and more-so, even, when he realized Snape was the last person he wanted to take him from _anywhere_, let alone the Dursley's. He would use this against him in some way, he'd turn the fact that he wasn't a spoiled brat like he'd always thought and he'd make Harry feel _worse_ for it-or like he deserved it...Harry couldn't decide what he would rather be subject to, if any of it - worst of all, Snape truly would leave him behind, that much was sure.

How in the _fuck_ was he going to get out of his room and get all his shit packed in time for Snape? It had to be nearly seven now -

The banging of the front door downstairs had Harry jumping right out of his skin and tearing the letter into pieces before anyone could find that he had it. He shoved the bits into the bin and dropped onto his bed carelessly, earning himself a sharp stab to the ribs that had him gritting his teeth desperately against the pain.

_Just leave me alone, just stay away from me - keep walking - _Harry pleaded desperately with his thoughts, like somehow he could control what was about to happen if he willed it hard enough.

He must not have plead hard enough.

"Thought that was funny, did you? Sending us _another_ fake summons so you could, what? Burn the house down, _steal_ from us, boy?" Vernon spat venomously and came across the room so fast with a backhand Harry hadn't expected to come as quickly as it had.

"I wouldn't steal anything from _you_-I've been locked in here all night, how in the bloody fuck - "

Another blow caught him hard enough that Harry let out a sharp yell, and another as his uncle grabbed him by the hair and threw him with enough force that he collided roughly with the floor for the second time that night.

"My Professor is coming to get me - you'd be _stupid_ to do anything else before he gets here, he'll _kill_ you - " Of course, Snape would more or less _assist_ Vernon's assaults, but Vernon didn't know that. Nor did he seem to care for Harry's unfounded threat.

"You threaten me in my home? You pathetic little freak! You disgraceful - " Each blow caught Harry hard enough to get him well out of breath...he physically _couldn't_ catch a break long enough to _breathe_-

"I hope he won't mind taking a _dead_ Potter back to freakland, where you belong rotting in the ground like your good-for-nothing parents - " _Freakland? _After all these years, and that was still the ruddy best his Uncle could come up with?

"Please, _stop it_!" Harry shouted, and something in his voice had Vernon laughing, laughing until he couldn't breathe, until Harry realized he'd done something to _stop_ Vernon's breathing.

Adrenaline alone had Harry on his feet, pain forgotten as he shoved past his Uncle Vernon and took off down the stairs, rounded on his Aunt Petunia who was holding Dudley close to her as he turned on them in rage.

"Open my cupboard. Now." He hissed viciously, "Now!" The lights gave a flicker and Petunia let out a scream and ran to get the key as Dudley ran past Harry up the steps where his father was only just taking rattling breaths. "Open it!" He demanded, only to realize that the cupboard had shot open of its own accord. He rushed to it, yanked his trunk out along with Hedwig's empty cage and his wand, which he held up the stairs as Vernon and Dudley came barreling down them as if they were going to come after him. "Stay the fuck away from me, I'm warning you-they can expel me, at this point, I'd beg them to expel me just for the chance to set you _straight_." He hissed this so venomously he saw Dudley go white and stop instantly while Vernon only seemed to hesitate before continuing with his hands outstretched, grasping for Harry's throat-

_BANG!_

Harry hadn't meant to-he wasn't truly planning on using magic, he didn't want to get expelled, Hogwarts was the only fucking home he _had_.

"Potter, if you'll come with me." Harry started then and turned quickly to see if what he'd heard was real, or if it was all just a figment of his imagination, something he'd made up in order to save himself from the expulsion that was no doubt already on its way...

The cold cruel voice of Severus Snape was the best thing he could have ever heard once he'd realized it was truly there, followed by the sight of his outstretched wand being the best thing he'd ever seen. He hadn't cast that spell, Snape had.

With one final, cold look at his relatives, if he could even call them that, Harry pushed himself on just a little more until he was across the street at Mrs. Figg's, where Snape had pointed wordlessly.

If Snape noticed his injuries, he gave no inkling of it. Harry would have preferred to keep it that way, only as he finally had a moment to catch his breath in Mrs. Figg's front corridor, he also had a moment to feel _pain_ again. Nothing could have stopped him from collapsing, not even the thought of Hogwarts, not the thought of playing quidditch, nor the thought of seeing Ron and Hermione.

"If you've had enough dramatizing, Potter - "

"I don't think he's mucking about, Severus." Mrs. Figg said gently and started forward with an outstretched hand, one meant to soothe him, but Harry could only flinch away.

"Potter, get up."

Harry didn't want to prolong his embarrassment, he did his best to do as Snape was telling him, but the pain only increased and had him collapsing again. "I can't." He said.

"Speak up, Potter, mumbling will get you nowhere - "

"I can't! I can't fucking move, Snape - "

"We may be outside of Hogwarts, Potter, but I can still make your life - "

"What, a living hell? You can't make it anymore miserable than it already is, go for it, try it, I can take ten times what you think you can give after what he..." Harry trailed off then and continued the struggle to get his legs under him.

"What he...what, Mr. Potter?"

"Severus, he's _injured_! Look at the boy-I knew, I told the Headmaster something was off in that house-look at him!" Mrs. Figg shouted and turned on a proper light which revealed Harry's state effectively to both adults in the room. Mrs. Figg's outrage then was enough to have Harry sure that he looked as bad as it all felt.

"What in Merlin's name did you do to yourself, Potter?" Snape spat incredulously at him, a moment of shock and confusion crossed his features before Harry was left wondering whether or not he'd imagined it all.

"Because I enjoy this - "

"What happened to you?" Snape's hiss was vicious and menacing, so much so that Harry cowered away from it and could only shake his head, lips tightly sealed. Snape wouldn't get the pleasure of hearing any of it. Snape wouldn't get the fucking satisfaction of the truth.

"I was jumped yesterday by a group of muggle boys." The lie spilled easily enough from his lips, and when Snape reached to pull Harry's jaw up so he could meet his eyes, Harry found himself occluding far harder than he ever had in his entire life.

Hard enough, even, that Snape's lip curled in disgust. "Fine. Help me get him laid out, Arabella, I'll do what I can here."

The combined effort of Snape and Mrs. Figg, not to mention Harry's determination _not_ to look weak in front of Snape, was enough to get him into the sitting room, where Snape set to work and did his best to source where the worst of it was coming from.

"All this happened yesterday, Potter?"

"Yes - "

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, _sir_."

"Interesting story, considering most of you is bleeding fresh - "

"Did you miss my Uncle coming at me from the stairs? Old wounds reopen when you're in a hurry, _sir_, you of all people should know that." Harry hissed under his breath, glad he finally had the ability to expel some of the pent up frustration he'd harbored this summer. Fuck Snape, let him take points or give him detention - it was _nothing_ compared to what Vernon could do to him.

Snape, surprisingly enough, said nothing. Instead, he pursed his lips in a hard thin line and worked, wordlessly casting his spells over the length of Harry until he could do no more for him at all and stepped back, "Do you think you can find the courage in you to stand, Potter, or must I conjure a stretcher?"

"I'm fine. Sir." He added hastily and stood, far too quickly, it seemed, for he was reaching out blindly to grab something as spots blackened his vision long enough for him to know what was coming if he didn't steady himself - he hadn't meant to grab the front of Snape's _robes_, however, and as soon as he balanced himself he was pulling away in disgust.

"A stretcher, then?"

"I said I'm _fine_." Harry insisted frustrated with the fact that Snape couldn't just cut him a fucking break and looked around for Mrs. Figg, like she might back him up on this. "Can we go?"

Snape fixed him with another hard look, but whether or not he expected Harry to meet his eyes again was a moot point as Harry turned away before he got the chance. He was unsteady on his feet but used his trunk to keep himself balance enough. If he could just get somewhere and lay down, he would wake up the next morning and be _fine_. He knew he would be, already, now that he was moving further from the Dursley's, he was feeling markedly better.

"Very well. I'm going to go first-you'll repeat clearly after me-I assume you're not too daft to travel by floo?" Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry coolly, and Harry did his best to breathe deeply to steady himself before he had another outburst. "Thank you, Arabella, the Headmaster sends his regards as well." Snape insisted curtly with a bow of his head before he accepted a pinch of Floo-powder and tossed it into Mrs. Figgs fireplace. "Snape residence, Spinner's End. Prince." _Snape residence? Prince?_

Where in the fuck -

"Go along now, Harry. The sooner you go, the sooner you'll be at the Burrow." Mrs. Figg encouraged softly and threw the powder into the flames for Harry so he could pull his trunk in with him. "It's going to be okay, Harry - "

But before she could go on, Harry was speaking clearly-along with the _password_ to Snape's _home_, something he hadn't realized until he could feel the potion master's floo accepting him after he gave it.

_Prince_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I do no own the characters nor the world they are in, that belongs to J.K Rowling!

This chapter contains coarse language and some description of injury.

Feel free to review/message me, I don't bite (that much?) Again, I'm sort of figuring things out as I go and I totally wasn't planning on publishing this-I have about one more chapter stocked up before I have to start going with it. Bear with me, a little? It'll get better once I develop an actual...focus?

Happy reading!

* * *

"Why are we at your - this is your home?"

Snape glared at Harry long before he deigned to give him an answer. "Yes, Potter. This is my home-was it 'Snape residence' that gave it away, or - ?" Harry turned away from Snape's sarcastic remarks then and pursed his lips against the urge to lash out once more. He tried to focus on what Mrs. Figg had said to him-the sooner he got through this, the sooner he'd be at the Burrow...and well on his way to eradicating everything that had happened this summer.

"Why are we here?" It took an inconceivable amount of effort to keep his voice from shaking.

"Let me ask you, Potter, if I show up at the Burrow with you in tow, and you look as you do...what do you think the whole Weasley brood would believe, hm? I won't take you there when you look like...you do." Snape informed him, as if it were obvious. Harry supposed it was but gave no inkling that he agreed to this plan, as much as he loathed being _here_.

"How do I know you're not about to turn me over to Vold-"

"I will turn you over to him if you don't watch your tone, your attitude, and your preposterous accusations, Potter." Snape snarled at once and rounded on Harry so viciously that Harry raised his arm to shield the blow that was sure to come. "Peculiar." As usual, Snape spoke with an irritatingly cruel precision in which every single one of his words sounded mocking and _above_ him.

Snape didn't hit him, and so, Harry lowered his arm in time to see the curious look on the Potion Master's face. Harry scowled, but said nothing - _fuck you_. His thoughts were often enough to get him by.

"I see your meager attempts at occluding are only passable when it serves _you_ best."

Harry started at this, furrowed his eyebrows and turned away again before speaking, "Dumbledore sent you to get me?"

"_Professor_ Dumbledore sent me to get you, Potter, yes. Surely you know I would not have deigned to grace myself with your presence of my own volition." It wasn't a question, there was no use pretending otherwise.

"Right," Harry quipped glibly.

"How many did it take to do that to you?"

"What?" Harry rounded on Snape in turn this time, lost as to what he was getting at.

"How many muggles did it take to reduce you to the state I found you in?" _Invalid-_ Severus thought bitterly to himself and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"I - five." The live was coarse and obvious, but Harry wasn't about to give him anything else.

"Five muggles, and that was the best they could do?"

"Fuck - " He cut himself off then and clenched his fists to tightly his nails dug into his skin sharp enough to make him hold his tongue. _Fuck you_.

"Such a disgusting mouth, Potter, did you Aunt and Uncle not teach you any _manners_? Have you truly grown up a savage?"

"Shut up. _Shut up_! You don't know the first bloody thing about how I grew up, you haven't got a clue-on second thought, I'd love to go to the Burrow right now, sod whatever the _Weasley brood_ thinks-let them think you did this to me, fuck if I care, the last place I'd rather be is - " _the Dursley's_. But _here_ was a second best. "In fact, I think I can take myself, actually-" Harry started and turned on his heel, wand in hand, trunk ready to be lugged in the other, "The Knight Bus can take me there, I'm not that _daft_, see?" Harry moved to grab the front know for the front door, only Snape flicked his wand and made it burn so hot he flinched away from it and turned on his potions Master full of reproach. "You don't want me here. I don't want to be here."

"What we want is not what matters here." Snape hissed and turned in a way reminiscent of how he commandeered his classroom, billowing cloak and all.

Harry, regretfully, had no other move but to follow.

As Snape flicked his wand in turn, summoning miscellaneous jars and vials, Harry took the opportunity to look around. While he was curious as to where his Potions Master lived outside of Hogwarts-he was more or less making sure that this wasn't some sort of trap. He didn't trust Snape as much as he would have liked to, or rather, as much as Dumbledore would have liked him to.

"Has my home met your approval, Potter, or must we delay this much longer?" Snape questioned coolly until Harry moved towards Snape with apprehension. When Snape drew his wand again, Harry froze, "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead," he hissed with finality before he transfigured a nearby chair into what resembled a medical examination table.

"What the fu -"

"Enough. Your vulgarity is revolting and I won't stand for any more of it. I'm going to fix you up and take you to the Burrow." Snape said with a finality that had Harry hopping up onto the table resigned to whatever Snape was about to subject him to, "Lay back, Potter."

Harry obliged him begrudgingly and kept his lips pursed around gritted teeth as Snape raised his wand and ran it over him, sourcing out the worst of his injuries-or rather, the ones he hadn't healed at Mrs. Figg's, "You're lucky I healed your ribs when I did." Harry gave a non-committal grunt of recognition. He was lucky. _That_ was it.

"I'm going to apply this salve to your skin, within a day or two your bruises will have healed completely. For now they will have merely faded"

"A day or two? But the Weasley's will know -"

"Know what?"

"I don't want them to worry more than they do."

"You were supposedly jumped by muggles, Potter, that's not an everyday worry now, is it?"

Harry pursed his lips and refrained from saying more, the restraint was enough to keep him from blowing his cover, but he assumed Snape saw through that as well based on the smirk he was sporting.

"I will only do the ones you cannot reach yourself -"

"No," Harry protested, sick at the thought of any sort of hands on him, "I can do them myself."

Snape hesitated for only half a beat before he spoke again, "So be it. Drink this."

Harry raised an eyebrow skeptically and Snape rolled his eyes. "Or don't, it is of no matter to me whether or not your pain resides, Potter." He drank and was instantly surprised as a controllable numbness spread through him. "And now this - Skele-gro, the potion I previously gave you should help with discomfort as well as your remaining injuries."

Snape turned his back then, once he had stepped far enough away, Harry cleared his throat, "Thank you, Professor."

He merely hesitated in the doorway and cast a scathing glance over his shoulder, "I will leave you to apply that. Do not desecrate my home as soon as I turn my back."

Harry rolled his eyes, sure that Snape would know just as he was doing it, but Snape was being an ass. Then again, Harry wasn't at all sure why he expected anything more.

He unscrewed the cap on the tiny jar of salve Snape had left him with and set about smoothing a thin layer over the bruises he knew were wrapped around his neck, his arms, and his face-he didn't bother with the rest of them, not when no one would see them anyway. He always wore jeans, and once he was at Hogwarts he would be plenty covered up by his uniform.

Once he had finished, Harry climbed off the table and followed in the direction Snape had gone, it didn't take long to find him, for he was speaking hushed into the fireplace to none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry stopped immediately and stayed hidden behind the wall between them, doing his best to listen.

"- told you Albus, he's lying, as arrogant as the brat is, you would think he could lie better -"

"Alas, Severus, until he comes forth with the truth, there is nothing to be done. We must have this conversation another time, I believe Harry is all but in the room." Harry froze then, a shamed look came upon his face and he did his best to walk into the room like he'd only just came upon it. Snape fixed him with a curled lip, snarling in his direction.

"Have you not learned the consequences of eavesdropping yet, Potter?"

"I wasn't-I just came to tell you I finished." Harry insisted quietly and dropped his eyes from the piercing ones of Severus Snape. He set the salve down on the the table nearest him and turned quickly to exit the room and find his trunk again-because there was something safe about lugging the thing behind him that he couldn't explain.

"Potter. Wait -" Snape commanded and started forward so quickly that Harry was shocked at how close he'd come when he turned and found himself backing away rapidly, "Enough with the insolence, you're _bleeding,_" Harry's brow furrowed and he looked down at his front to source out what Snape was saying, only Snape let out a scathing scoff and turned him roughly at the shoulder, "Your back."

"It's fine - I'll live," Harry insisted and tried to pull out of Snape's grip, but the Potions Master wouldn't relinquish his hold on him. "Let me _go _-" It was too late then, Harry could feel where his t-shirt had stuck to him and could feel Snape's wand lifting it to examine the extent  
of the damage. "I said -"

"Save it," Snape led him back to the room they'd been in earlier and pointed silently at the makeshift examination table. Harry swallowed thickly and climbed up gingerly. "Lie on your stomach," Seeing that he was about to protest, Snape flicked his wand and froze Harry effortlessly before he flipped him with a flick of his wand. "I did warn you." As his t-shirt rose to reveal his back, Harry felt the panic set in-the bruising there was extensive, the lashes from his Uncle's belt-Snape healed him up without a word and unfroze Harry instantly. "Your Uncle, I assume? He did this to you?"

Harry froze and swallowed thickly, "Just because you're an expert Legilimens doesn't mean you can-"

"I didn't need Legilimency to see through you, Potter."

Harry felt his lip curl and he met Snape's onyx eyes hard, almost pleading for him to _try _it, just try to see through his defenses now. He wouldn't show Snape what his Uncle had done to him, even if he _assumed_ to already know.

"You don't know what you're getting at, Professor, and even if you did, there isn't much you could do about it anyway. I'm _fine_. I'd just like to be getting to the Burrow, now." Harry uttered quietly, no sound of reproach in his voice at this point. He was just _exhausted_, starving, longing for some sort of comfort-a comfort he would never get from Snape of all people, "Please, Professor."

"First, I will know what it was that I walked in on back at your home." Snape demanded easily, expectantly.

"That is not my home."

"I will know what happened there all the same, Potter." He raised an eyebrow and waited, Harry knew he had no choice.

"I - my Uncle Vernon was angry with me, that's all...something about _another_ fake contest? I don't know. I'm a disgraceful, ungrateful, arrogant little brat and I guess he just lost his temper that time. Is that what you want to hear? He went to grab me and I think I-I used accidental magic, I didn't have my wand or anything, so I didn't _mean_ to, it just happened and he went at me again but you showed up -" Harry blurted quickly with a casual shrug and waited with baited breath for Snape's reaction.

"Another fake...contest? This...has happened before?" That was not what he had expected. There was almost something regretful in Snape's tone.

"Last summer when the Order came, Tonks sent them some...fake summons for a lawn keeping award they were to win. Of course, by the time they figured it out and got home, I was gone, so..." Harry shrugged and swallowed thickly.

"I...well, if I had known they would pick up on my ploy so quickly because it had been done before...I would have done something else." Snape admitted in a tone that sounded almost borderline..._earnest_.

Harry felt his jaw drop of its own accord and forced himself to snap it shut before Snape could comment on that.

"You sent them...? I - well. You couldn't have possibly known. It's fine." Harry muttered and ran his hand over the back of his head, a pained look on his face. Had he just...for lack of a better word, _accepted_ an _apology_ (of sorts) from _Snape_, of all people?

Harry cleared his throat and dropped his eyes to his feet, like he would fine that answer there. It was Snape who finally broke the silence.

"Would you...like to go to the Burrow now, then? I'm sure the_ Weasley brood_ and Miss Granger are extremely anxious for your arrival. We are...a bit behind schedule." Harry nodded in response and made to follow Professor Snape. "I will send your things along ahead and we will apparate from here. My home is un-plottable." Harry nodded again, as if he understood the deep way this worked.

No sooner than his trunk disappeared did Snape instruct Harry to grasp his arm before he turned on his heel and apparated them just outside the protective charms that were set up on the Burrow. Before they stepped through, Harry hesitated and Professor Snape turned with an impatient eyebrow raise and a snarl on his face.

"If you would, Potter -"

"I just - Professor Snape...could you not mention any of what you saw to the Weasley's...o-or Dumbledore -"

"Professor Dumbledore."

"I-yeah. Professor Dumbledore. It's not worth the trouble, truly, I'm not worth the trouble of-"

"I won't say anything unless I find it is pertinent in some way." Snape insisted coolly and fixed Harry with a glare until he followed in the direction of the seven-story leaning home he considered his second favorite place in the entire world.

He was content to leave everything behind him then.

Snape didn't come inside, he merely greeted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley at the door and nodded curtly at them before he turned and made it far enough away to apparate. For that, Harry was grateful. He would be able to settle in here at last.

"Oh, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley cooed and scooped him up in her arms-he was glad that Severus had managed to siphon the blood out of his shirt before he'd come. "By Merlin, Harry, you're so thin - let's get you something to eat, yeah? Sit, sit - everyone's asleep by now but Arthur and I swore we'd wait up for you and let them know when you'd gotten in..." Mrs. Weasley trailed off and let her eyes rake over to the stairwell, but Harry shook his head.

"No, no, it's fine Mrs. Weasley - I'll see them tomorrow anyway. Er - thank you, for having me this summer, I really appreciate it -"

"Oh, Harry - you're always welcome. I don't know why we haven't just started taking you right off the train..." Mr. Weasley insisted just before he clapped him on the shoulder (to which Harry had to stifle a groan) and he turned to offer him a grateful smile, one that tried not to let on how much he knew Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were taking in-he must have looked like a mess, gaunt and bruised like he was.

"I've just finished a pot of soup, and I've got fresh bread as well, what about some fruit too? And treacle tart, your favorite - I wouldn't let Ron even _taste_ it until you got some first." Mrs. Weasley said with a wink as Harry nodded, a bit overwhelmed as she began to set food in front of him, helping after helping of soup until he had to swear to hear that he was full to bursting.

And he was, literally. Full to bursting. He had to swallow thickly multiple times to keep his soup from making a second appearance. "H-how's work, Mr. Weasley?"

"Oh, he went and got himself a promotion-in the midst of all this chaos, leave it to my Arthur to get a promotion!" Mrs. Weasley cooed and smoothed a hand over Mr. Weasley's hair before Arthur turned back to Harry with a wink and a roll of his eyes.

"It's not so glamorous as it sounds, the hours are brutal, I only just got home before you. And then...well, what with everything going on..." Arthur pursed his lips and swallowed a mouthful of bread before he continued on. "The Ministry is in an uproar, what with Fudge out of office and Scrimgeour stepping in, there's a new calamity every day and he seems to be gunning for more arrests. Azkaban will be over-crowded before long." Harry listened intently, glad for some real news and pursed his lips all whilst doing his best to keep his stomach from churning unnaturally...a notion he wasn't sure came with eating too quickly, or from the words Mr. Weasley was offering up.

"Well, it - it's got to get worse before it gets better, dear." Mrs. Weasley insisted softly, and Harry wasn't sure whether or not she was addressing him, so he stayed quiet and smiled contentedly over his half empty bowl. "Alright then, Harry, you look exhausted -" He tried not to notice the way they both properly took in the sight of him.

"I am, really." He yawned for affect and leapt at the chance to leave-but not before Mrs. Weasley chastised him for trying to clear his dishes.

"Off to bed, now, I've got Fred and George's room all ready for you, you'll have it to yourself!" Mrs. Weasley cooed chipperly with a smile and waved him up towards the steps.

He took the stair two at a time but didn't make it to the twin's room, instead he found the bathroom and dropped to his knees before the toilet so most of his dinner could come back up. He forced himself to stand spat into the basin before he rinsed his mouth and promised himself he would eat much less, and much slower tomorrow to keep this from happening again. Slowly, but surely, he could build his strength back up enough before he went to Hogwarts - Snape would be all but inclined to forget, and Dumbledore wouldn't be any the wiser.

He hoped.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters or the world they are in, that's all J.K Rowling's!

Forgive the boring filler-ness of this chapter, it has to be done occasionally, doesn't it?

I'm super pleased to see that some of you are reading/following this story, just for you, I'll keep going! Let me know if there's anything specific you'd like to see and I'll do my best!

Happy reading!

* * *

"Wuzzgoinon?" Harry mumbled groggily and reached for his glasses just before he caught sight of a familiar shock of red hair, followed by the unmistakable curls-it could only be Ron and Hermione, though he had to admit, Hermione had done something to tame her hair. It wasn't smothering him like it usually did when she threw his arms around him like this.

"Let 'im breathe, Hermione," Ron started lightly with a grin and gave Harry a clap on the shoulder, "We didn't know you were here already, mate! Mum only just told us - she's sending up a tray for you, too. Reckons you look starved," Ron waved a dismissive hand for which Harry was grateful. He didn't need them all watching him so blatantly close.

"How was your summer, Harry?" Hermione questioned gently with a curiously look on her face that Harry didn't quite understand.

"Well, you know, the usual. I was just with my aunt and uncle, wasn't I?" He raised an eyebrow as Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, "What?" He blurted, an edge to his voice then that Hermione did her best to diffuse.

"We just meant-how have you been doing, Harry? You just look-you look exhausted and run down. We want you to know that we're...we're _here_ for you, okay?" Hermione insisted with a pitying look on her face that Harry found himself loathing. It had to be a new record for them, only about five minutes until they broached the topic of asking how he was doing since _Sirius_.

"Great, yeah, thanks Hermione," muttered Harry with his eyes cast somewhere over her shoulder. Ron opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the door banging open behind him as Ginny burst in with her eyes rolled, and a very fit, very blonde-

"_Fleur_?" Harry blurted incredulously before he subconsciously pulled the covers higher to shield himself as she flounced forward and kissed either of his cheeks.

" 'Arry, eet 'az been too long!" She chipped in with a smile before she set down a tray of breakfast in front of him, Mrs. Weasley was the next one in. " 'as no one told 'Arry zat Bill and I are getting married?" Fleur turned accusingly on Mrs. Weasley who flushed and sighed.

"We hadn't gotten around to telling him yet-he only just woke up." Mrs. Weasley explained as Fleur left them behind with what sounded all too like a frustrated huff. Harry raised his eyebrows as Ginny snorted and shook her head.

"Just admit it, mum, you _hate_ her-"

"I do not hate her, Ginevra-"

"Ooh, _Ginevra_, she's angry..." Ginny trailed off with a teasing smirk and shot out of the room ahead of her mother who was jokingly reaching to give her a pinch. _If only it had ever been that easy for me_...Harry pursed his lips glumly and looked back at Ron and Hermione like he was waiting for them to say something else.

"Oh, er, yeah. Bill and Fleur are getting married next summer...mum's not too thrilled about it, but I don't see what the problem is -"

"Oh, honestly, Ronald! She's horrible! She speaks to us all like we're _children_, and she - "

"You liked her well enough when she was helping you with your hair!" Ron pointed out with a gesture of his hand and Hermione's cheeks flushed pink.

"I didn't say I didn't like her - "

"She's horrible?" Ron raised his eyebrows and Harry let out a laugh before he shook his head and dug slowly into his breakfast.

A few bites in and he was pushing the tray away so he could sit up.

"That's all you're eating?" Hermione cut in quickly, and Harry furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at his tray-most of it was untouched, but for him it had felt like a full course meal.

"I - yeah?"

Ron knicked a piece of bacon off his plate and Hermione snapped her hand out to whack his arm to which Harry forced himself not to wince, "That's Harry's!"

"' 'e said 'e was finished, 'Mione!" Ron pointed out through a mouthful of food before she left in a huff and Harry couldn't help but feel like he'd done something wrong. "Don't mind her, Harry, she's been like that since she got here - I think she was worried when you didn't answer our letters. Why...why didn't you answer them, anyway?"

"I - your letters?" Harry blurted, unable to help himself, "You didn't send me any letters - and I certainly couldn't send them back since I sent Hedwig to you!"

"Harry - we wrote you multiple times a week, we were so worried about you! We wrote Dumbledore and told him we thought something had bloody happened to you!" _Something did _- Harry wouldn't say this out loud, though.

"I didn't get any letters, Ron - my uncle must have intercepted them, or something." And it was then that Harry realized that must have been the _truth_ - of course his friends wouldn't have forgotten about him suddenly, not after six fucking years. Harry let out a relieved laugh and shook his head, "I thought you'd all just written me off, or something."

Ron's jaw dropped and he gently punched Harry's shoulder, "You're stark-raving if you think we'd forget about you, Harry, blimey. The number of times we've all almost gotten killed together? How could we ever forget you?" Ron was teasing, Harry knew, but his words cut him somewhere he knew Ron couldn't see because it was the truth.

He killed everyone around him, indirectly or not, he was still responsible.

They spent their days playing quidditch, Harry and Hermione on one team and Ron and Ginny on the other to make it more even. When Charlie and Bill came by to say hello, they paired them off on teams as well and had a few intense matches going.

For the first time in ages, Harry felt truly happy, the soreness in his body had all but fled and was replaced by a soreness that came from spending all his time trying to rebuild what body mass he'd lost over the summer. His bruising had faded to the point that it was almost unnoticable when he stepped out of the showers in the morning and looked himself over in the talking mirror that told him more often than not he was far too thin...at least now the mirror was telling him to keep it up. He'd grown quite fond of the mirror encouraging him as he went along with slowly rebuilding himself.

He wouldn't be caught dead back in the wizarding world looking weak and defeated, or starved and beaten. And now that Ron and Hermione knew the papers were getting it all right...that he actually was the so called "Chosen One" - he needed to believe it too. It would be up to him to kill Voldemort - or die trying.

The trip to Diagon Alley seemed to have a cloud over it, with the Alley empty save for those bustling around to get the things they needed before leaving immediately, the certain businesses that had closed were notable losses along the alley. The only cheer at all had been the storefront of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes - and it seemed to be the only string of activity that was constantly going. Harry couldn't help but find brilliance in their bright display. The very place seemed to ward off any and all darkness, the very same darkness that had consumed the alley in all as it once had been. He was grateful, at least, that there were a fair few not content on letting Voldemort ruin everything, as the immediate world around him had once seemed to.

* * *

The rest of the trip had gone fairly well - save for the run in with Malfoy and his mother, and getting kicked out of Borgin and Burkes for their obvious investigating, Harry was content to be back at the Burrow. Diagon Alley hadn't been the same, the magic it had once held was tainted now, and he'd rather peruse what they'd bought at Fred and George's in the safe confines of the Weasley's home. Or rather, he thought he would. It wasn't until he'd begged off for some fresh air that Charlie had come around to speak to him.

Clearly, he'd been waiting to catch him alone for a moment, and that had never seemed to bode well for Harry.

"Mum and dad have been pretty worried about ye', Harry." Charlie admitted gently as he dropped down next to him on the front steps and turned his eyes to study the stars where Harry had been fixated. He clapped a consoling hand to Harry's back before letting it fall away. "We all have. Remus especially, he said he hadn't been able to get through to ye' over the summer."

Harry turned to look at Charlie, who seemed content to avoid eye contact for the moment. Harry had no problem obliging him that. "I - my Uncle must have intercepted everyone's letters, I didn't even know anyone had been sending any," it sounded like a lame excuse, but Charlie accepted it all the same, it made sense considering Harry's situation.

"Bill told me how Dursley had acted after Mad-Eye and the lot spoke to him about Sirius..." Charlie trailed off then and took a side-long glance at Harry, as if he expected the boy to react.

"And?" Harry didn't mean for his voice to sound so bitter, but he couldn't help it.

"And you'd tell us, wouldn't you? If he - if something was happening there? Anything out of the ordinary?" Charlie ducked his head to meet Harry's down cast eyes, "You can tell us anything, Harry, all we want is to keep you safe. You've become family to us - "

"Nothing is happening, Charlie, really. I appreciate it, but I'm fine," Harry responded quickly, too quickly perhaps, but there wouldn't be any room for Charlie to say he'd hesitated. "My Uncle's a bitter old man, he might be hell to live with, but it's not unbearable."

Charlie furrowed his eyebrows at Harry then for a long moment before nodding. He ran a hand over his jaw and pushed himself to his feet, "Well, alright, Harry. Alright. Just keep what I said in mind. I'd bloody well kill the fucker if you asked."

Harry let out a light chorus of laughter, as he knew was to be expected with the offer, but a part of him almost wished it was a request he could make of Charlie, of anyone, really.

It would be something to think about when the nightmares got bad, anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Neither the characters nor the world are mine, that belongs to J.K Rowling!

I'm sorry if everything seems a bit rushed guys, I'm doing my best to get Harry to Hogwarts so all the good stuff can start, while trying to incorporate some of the events canonically from the books as well as some of the help he gets from his friends to start getting himself back on track!

Anyway, reviews/messages would be really nice! Let me know what you think or what I can do better as well as what you'd like to see!

* * *

Leaving the Burrow was harder than Harry had thought it would be. It wasn't that he wasn't desperate to get back to Hogwarts, to find some semblance of his life before everything had gone straight to hell. Hogwarts was the only constant for him - but that was just it, wasn't it? Hogwarts was the constant, it was there to remind him of everything awful that he'd ever been through. The Burrow, at least, the Burrow was there for him, it was a safe place. The Weasley's had always been there for him, the Weasley's had offered him a home with them numerous amounts of times...if anything, he had a place to go back to that would feel more like home than anything else.

They took the Ministry cars to King's Cross, Harry averted his gaze while the Weasley's said their goodbyes, only to be drawn in by Mrs. Weasley who took her time giving him a strong armed hug, "I would have liked to put some more meat on your bones before you went back to school, Harry, promise me you'll take care of yourself? I'd tell you to stay out of trouble but well, trouble just seems to find you, doesn't it?" Mrs. Weasley offered him up a meek smile before she shooed him after the others, "You'll come for Christmas, won't you Harry?"

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley, if you'll have me," he gave her those last words with charming wink before he climbed onto the train and went to find a compartment while Ron and Hermione had their prefect meeting.

The train ride itself was fairly calming, for a while he was able to do some of his summer work, most of which he'd forgotten about while he'd been at the Dursley's, and had been too busy enjoying life to do while at the Weasley's. Hermione must've assumed he'd finished it all off, otherwise she would have been harping on him for it, wouldn't she?

He'd been about to go find the trolley for something to eat, only just then he caught sight of Malfoy - and he looked far too much like he was up to something for Harry to let it slide. Vaguely, he remember Mrs. Weasley's warning, not to go looking for trouble surely fell under the category of taking care of himself...but he couldn't shake the eerie feeling he got every time he saw Malfoy. Since the run in in Diagon Alley, since they'd followed him to Borgin and Burkes...his decision had been made well before he decided to grab his cloak and threw it over himself.

* * *

It had been a truly stupid idea, a foolhardy, Gryffindor move - and he didn't even have anything to show for it. He hadn't seen Malfoy's mark, he'd only alluded to it after all. Harry should have known, he should have known it wasn't going to be this easy.

And now he wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts after all. The train was already pulling away, by the time anyone found him under this cloak, if they found him at all. the train would be back at King's Cross. And maybe no one would find him their, either, maybe it would take until the holidays when someone boarded this compartment and stumbled over him...

"Wotcher, Harry - "

_Tonks?_

_"Finite,"_ she murmured over him and gave him his movement back, to which he forced himself to his feet and grabbed the cloak, "We're going to have to jump, Harry - this ought to be fun." He snorted over the sarcasm in her voice, only to remember that Malfoy had crushed his nose under his heel, "Come on, then, on three - " Tonks urged just after she pulled the door open.

Harry leapt and managed to land on his feet where Tonks landed besides him much less gracefully.

"Always a clutz, wasn't I?" She murmured as he helped her to her feet and she gestured for him to head towards the gates, "Everyone's bound to be bent out of shape because you're missing, I should send a patronous up to let them know you're alive. Blimey - who the ruddy hell did this to you, Harry?" She wondered with a gesture to his nose after she sent off her patronous and got a better look at him.

"Malfoy," Tonks nodded like she'd been expecting it, though he supposed no one else would have made proper sense anyway, would they?

"I can fix it up for you, better than making you wait through the feast to see Pomfrey - " Harry was about to protest, but Tonks was already tapping his nose and muttering _episkey. _A tingling sensation spread through him from the tip of his nose, and when he reached up to feel it, the pain was gone.

"Brilliant, Tonks, thank you - "

"If the pair of you have had enough dawdling, the Feast is waiting. You've already missed the Sorting, _Mr. _Potter and I daresay your grand entrance might be ruined if you don't _come along,_" Snape's voice was as cold, drawling, and unwelcome as ever. Harry swallowed thickly, he'd been dreading the moment where he'd have to see Snape again, but this was worse than he would have ever thought.

"Right, Harry, well, good luck, say hi to Ron and Hermione, oh, and Ginny too," Tonks waved before she turned on her heel and left Harry before he could even wave, leaving him to make the walk with Snape.

Harry kept his lips tightly pursed, he didn't trust himself not to say anything that would absolutely _screw _him.

"You will be starting Occlumency lessons again. With me," Snape said finally and Harry froze as soon as the words registered with him.

"With _you_?" Harry blurted, unable to stop himself from reacting incredulously to the ridiculous bullshit Snape was spewing at him now. What was this? Revenge? Some prolonged method of torture under the ruse of _helping him__? _No, no, Harry had had enough of Snape's help. "I can occlude just fine. I've been practicing, and I don't need you assaulting my memories to - "

"Five points from Gryffindor for your tone, ten for your attitude, and fifteen for being late. My, my, Potter, you've outdone your father on that one. I don't think anyone has ever put their house in the negative range so soon into term," Snape pointed out scathingly, a satisfied smirk on his face. Harry opened his mouth to spit something sneering in Snape's direction but held his tongue and thought better of it, "Occlumeny lessons will resume tomorrow in my office after dinner, and believe me, Potter, if I had a choice - "_  
_

"Our choices aren't what matter here, are they, Professor?" Harry muttered sarcastically with a bitter thought in Dumbledore's direction, and if he didn't know any better, he would have sworn that smirk on Snape's face was almost genuine.

"Five more points. Keep it up, Potter, I would love the house cup in my office another year," Snape quipped with his hands folded tightly behind his back. Harry pursed his lips and reached up to wipe the drip of blood that was coming from his nose.

"Bloody hell -"

"Why does it always seem to be that I find you when you're bleeding? It's _infernally_ tedious," Harry rolled his eyes when he was sure Snape couldn't see him and take more points.

"Why don't you ask Malfoy?" Harry muttered out of pure frustration and a hard glare in Snape's direction. Snape raised his eyebrows at Harry but chose not to say anything. As they stopped in front of the doors to the Great Hall, Harry couldn't help but let his eyes flick towards the stairs, "Can't I just go to Gryffindor tower?"

"You've dug your grave, now you can lie in it. You wanted a grand entrance, a grand entrance you'll get."

"I never said I wanted a grand entrance," He muttered under his breath as Snape swept the doors open and gave Harry a nudge through them, leaving him in the next moment to face the stares of the entire hall on his own.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the character, nor the world they are in, they and that belong to J.K Rowling!

I may or may not be tipsy (I am) while I write this chapter, forgive me if I get ahead of myself! I hope none of you mind?!

Warning for cursing and flashbacks of an abusive nature.

I need some feedback, guys, don't make me withhold chapters! (I'm joking...sort of?)

* * *

"Bloody hell, Snape? Teaching us Defense?" Ron repeated for what must have been the umpteenth time that night, "Dumbledore must finally be losing it, to give Snape -"

"Professor Snape, Ronald," Hermione reminded him with a roll of her eyes, though she too looked like she was having trouble finding the rhyme and reason to Dumbledore's latest move. They both seemed to be looking at Harry for answers, he had none to give them. He was just as troubled as Ron was, truly, he didn't understand it - Dumbledore hadn't trusted Snape to teach defense, he'd forever been keeping him separated from that line of work...and Harry couldn't see where anything had changed.

"I just don't understand, after all this time? We're going to fail our bloody NEWT's now, 'Mione! Aren't you worried about that?" Ron assaulted quickly with something that surely he thought Hermione would react in kind. Harry pulled a hand through his hair and dropped heavily into the sofa, further back into the cushions. It was a comfort to be back in Gryffindor Common Room, but he knew it would be short-lived. Another night waited for him in the dormitory, at least now he wouldn't have to worry about anyone hearing him. He could finally cast a silencing charm on himself, something he hadn't realized through all his other years here. Poor Ron, to have to wake nightly and deal with Harry's terrors...

"We have to be up in a few hours, we'd do well to get some sleep," Hermione said finally, after Ron repeated like a broken record another couple of times, "At least, I'll get some sleep then, you two stay and figure out how best to process what we can't change. Professor Dumbledore knows what's best, after all, you two should know that best." And Harry did. Know it, anyway. Or, at least, Harry knew that Dumbledore thought he knew what was best, and he'd trusted it all his life.

Only, he was living proof that old men sometimes lose their way.

Harry raised his eyebrows as she swept from the Common Room and took the girls stairway up to her dormitory. He looked to Ron for a minute before he sighed and stood himself. Begrudgingly, Harry followed.

He changed quickly into his pajamas, careful not to betray the marks on his skin to anyone else in the dormitory. He wasn't prepared to unleash that story just yet. Nor was he ready to let any of them hear the way his nightmares had changed into something less like Voldemort, and more like -

Well. It didn't matter. They weren't about to hear it anyway.

Harry cast his silencing charms, drew the hanging around his four poster, and surrendered himself to the nightmares waiting for him once he closed his eyes.

It started off innocently enough.

He was weeding, plucking them from the garden as he often was over the summer for Aunt Petunia. Weeding, at least, gave him a chance to get fresh air, to revel in the moments he was able to see the sky and the sun, to feel a breeze against his skin.

It didn't stay innocent.

He relived his rape, he relived another beating. He relived snakes encircling his throat and cutting off his airway, he screamed for help, he screamed and screamed. And, for good measure, Voldemort was the one who came to him. Voldemort and his killing curse was all the reprieve he needed.

Harry woke earlier than the rest of his dorm mates that morning, he showered quickly and examined himself in the mirror. For the most part, he didn't look as sickly as he had four weeks ago. There was color in his skin again, color that made him look more human and less ghost. He could count his ribs, but he couldn't count them as easily as he'd been able to before Mrs. Weasley and three-helpings of everything she'd served had found him at the end of the summer.

It was hard to see his back, the bruising on him was gone, but the scars left from Vernon's whippings were not. They would serve as reminders for the rest of his life. Reminders he wouldn't show anyone. Once he killed Voldemort, he wouldn't have to worry about anyone caring about him, right? That was all he was here for, that was all he was good for. If he was even good for that.

* * *

Lessons that day had gone fairly well. It had felt good to use his wand again, to see his Professors in all their glory in front of the classroom. He hadn't had to see Snape, he didn't have Defense Against the Dark Arts until Wednesday, and Potions hadn't been all that horrible...thanks to the Half Blood Prince and his helpful hints.

The only thing that Harry was dreading now, of course, was _Occlumency. _He had half-considered going to Dumbledore to beg for some sort of alternative. He'd considered trying to prove to him that he'd gotten better at it, that the last thing he needed was Snape's help, but the fear of being rejected was far too humiliating to stand. Dumbledore wouldn't want to deal with him, he hadn't deigned to deal with him all summer, had he? What would be the change now?

For that reason alone, Harry forced himself through dinner in the Great Hall where Hermione had tried and failed to get him to eat something more substantial than the broth of the soup that had been laid out before them.

As Snape rose from his chair at the head table, Harry did as well with words of good fortune from his best friends. At least they were on his side.

Harry beat Snape to his office, but he didn't dare go inside before the Professor had allowed him. He'd long since given up the right of being in Snape's office alone. Ever since the incident with the pensieve -

"I see you're punctuality has markedly improved."

Harry raised his eyebrows before turning to greet Snape with the courtesy of eye contact. Had that been a compliment? As mild a one as he'd ever received, but all the same, a compliment. From Snape.

He followed Snape into his office and swallowed the lump that was rapidly forming in his throat. He didn't want to have to deal with this, he didn't want to deal with Snape picking apart his memories - he didn't want Snape to see anything that he was trying purposely to run from himself. It wasn't Snape's business, and he shouldn't have to worry about his own business being broadcast to the entire bloody world -

"Let's make this quick, then, Potter. If you find it in yourself to successfully occlude me, you can leave and you won't have to come back again."

It sounded too good to be true.

"_Legilimens!_"

It came too quick for Harry to focus himself. He thought, at the very least, that he would have had the chance to remove his cloak from his shoulders before Snape started in with his onslaught.

The memories raced by too quickly for Harry to grab one and hold onto it, to keep Snape from getting any closer to them. He didn't want Snape to touch them, to touch his memories, each more sinister than the last. Snape latched onto one, finally, the image of his Uncle with his belt off sprung to Harry's mind and it was all Harry could do not to scream. He did his best to picture his cupboard, he pulled the cupboard to his mind, thrust his memory inside it and forced Snape away from him so violently when he came back to the room, Snape was a few paces away from where he'd started and he was watching Harry curiously.

"Again," Harry spoke too quickly for Snape to comment, too quickly for Snape to say anything but _legilimens._

The memory this time was different, he was at the top of the stairs one moment, his Uncle's hands were at his back, and the next he was tumbling, crashing into the banister and landing at the bottom of the stairs with his arm bent crooked and his forehead cut open. His uncle didn't stop there, though. He raced down the stairs and drove his foot so hard into Harry's ribcage that the snaps were audible.

And once again, Harry borrowed his cupboard and threw Snape and all his prodding inside it.

"Unusual choice, the use of a cupboard," Snape commented but didn't question any further, and Harry wouldn't give him the satisfaction of offering him an answer. If he prodded the memories any further, he would understand why soon enough. After all, his Hogwarts letter had been addressed to the cupboard under the stairs, "_Legilimens!_"

The memory this time was a fresh one. Or fresher than the others. It was summer after his fourth year. He'd just woken the entire house from a nightmare about Cedric. It was his uncle that came to him this time, his uncle that closed and locked the door upon entry. His uncle had perched himself at the edge of Harry's bed and tentatively, like he was afraid that Harry would react, he reached to pull the covers slowly off of Harry.

_"What are you doing?"_ Harry had blurted then and reached to draw them back up, but Vernon had already moved to waist of Harry's pajama bottoms -

Harry threw Snape from his mind violently, and again he found him a few paces away, only this time Harry himself was on his hands and knees, "That wasn't - that's not...it's private, you can't just do that!" Harry shouted, but his voice was hoarse and cracked, too hoarse for his words to come off as careless and threatening as he would have liked them to sound. Especially to Snape.

"What was that, Potter?" Snape hissed and started forward in a way so sharply that Harry threw himself backwards away from Snape, like he had anywhere to escape to.

"It wasn't_ anything_, Professor," Harry hissed in return and forced himself to his feet, gripping for the nearest table to steady himself.

"What - "

"_Nothing_! It was nothing!" Harry shouted and sparks shot off from the edge of his wand, a warning if there ever was one. "I occluded you - not right away, but I _did. _We - we're done with this, I - I'm done with this bullshit, you just, you don't even give me a chance! You just, you assault me without letting me - "

"Is the Dark Lord going to give you a chance, Potter? Is he going to sit back and let you gather yourself before he invades your mind? Do you want him to have this ammunition against you, should he invade you dreams once again, because we all remember how fantastically that turned out?" Snape snarled, and Harry felt himself trembling so violently that he had to grab for the table again to keep himself from losing it entirely, "I will ask you one last time - "

"You can ask all you want, Snape."

"Ten points from Gryffindor."

"Take a million, for all I care!"

"You need to relax yourself, Potter."

"I am relaxed!"

"Truly? Fine, _legilimens."_

Harry was reduced to his knees again, only this time he didn't have it in himself to lock Snape in his cupboard and push him out of his mind.

The memory was the same. Only Snape was pushing it further, further than Harry had ever seen it through before - at least since it had actually happened to him. Vernon was pulling his clothes off, despite Harry's struggling - and when Harry's struggles became too much for him to manipulate, he would pound on him until he stopped...

This time, Snape pulled himself from the memory and surveyed Harry carefully where he was on the floor once again, panting and trying to regain his composure before Snape turned on him again and tried to pull the answers out of him.

"Harry, Harry look at me."

_Harry?_

Since when had Snape ever called him 'Harry'?

Harry wouldn't look at him all the same, there was no new-found kindness that Severus Snape could pretend to have found that would make Harry look at him in that moment. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet and turned from Snape's office, forcing one foot in front of the other until he was back in the safety of Gryffindor Tower.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the character or the world they are in, they belong to the illustrious J.K Rowling!

Seeing reviews this morning when I woke up was the greatest feeling ever, keep them coming seriously!

I'm not sure where I'm going with this chapter, but I did do some planning last night finalllllly so I've got some sort of aim, at least.

Happy reading!

So sorry for the cliffhanger, guys! hahhaha jk I'm not :P

* * *

"I told you, Professor, I just don't want to take it anymore," Harry insisted, trying his hardest for there to be an earnestness in his voice that he hoped Professor McGonogall would believe. She didn't seem to be taking well to the idea.

"I made a promise to you in front of that...that vile woman, Mr. Potter. Your dream is to be an auror, Defense Against the Dark Arts is a required NEWT-level course. You scored an 'Outstanding' on your OWL's, and that is more than satisfactory -"

"It _was _my dream," Harry blurted, a full on lie. Though, considering where his life was headed, down the yellow-brick-bloody-road to Voldemort, he supposed it didn't matter if he became an auror or not, he'd still have to hunt Voldemort, the darkest wizard of all. His situation was a bit beyond the Ministry based profession. "I don't want to take the class any longer."

Professor McGonogall sighed and shook her head, "I know what this is about, Harry, and I simply cannot allow you to drop the class. I won't. It won't be easy seeing as you and Professor Snape have never quite gotten along, but it would be a shame - not to mention ludicrously poor judgement on my part to allow you to throw away your talent simply because you and the Professor have a history of disagreement."

Harry pursed his lips and opened his mouth to protest once again, only Professor McGonogall held up her hand and silenced him before he had the chance to speak again.

"I've given you my answer, Mr. Potter. You will continue with Defense Against the Dark Arts. Perhaps one day you'll understand why."

At that, Professor McGonogall ushered him out of her classroom and along to his next class, which was, consequently, Defense Against the Dark Arts.

There was not a chance in hell.

Instead of reporting to the Defense classroom, Harry wandered back to Gryffindor Tower, and shoved his invisibility cloak into his bag in case he needed to hide from any Professors...or anyone looking for him. He assumed he would have to skip lunch too...a visit to the kitchens would be in order. He grabbed some of his homework and brought that along too, at least if he was going to skip Defense he could be productive about it.

It didn't take long for him to settle in behind tapestry where a long passage stretched behind it.

He had managed to cap off his charms essay before he succumbed to sleep. As expected, he hadn't slept at all after he'd run out of Snape's office, there had been no way he was going to subject himself to sleep after that. Instead he spent the night in the Common Room, distracting himself with the quidditch book Hermione had given him for his birthday, as well as polishing his Firebolt and practicing the transfiguration spells McGonogall had written on the syllabus for them for the first day. He could be productive when he wanted to be, sod whatever it was Snape thought about him.

Sleep was a fitful thing. He spent most of his time running from an enraged Vernon, when it wasn't Vernon it was Snape, laughing at him behind a Death Eater's mask. He hadn't seen Snape's face, but something in his dream had just told him who it was, he knew it was Snape behind that mask. And then, at one point, it wasn't. It was Malfoy.

Malfoy took shape of something more sinister then, the red eyes and slits for a nose. Sirius falling through the veil again, his Uncle smashing him back against the wall in the hallway so hard he saw stars before his eyes and sank to the floor, and then he was in Snape's office again on his knees. It was all like a dream within a dream, only now it seemed he was conditioned to relive his worst memories while he was asleep too.

Harry woke with a start and a cool sweat. There were no windows to tell him what time it was, but something had him believing he hadn't only slept through Defense Against the Dark Arts and lunch...but most likely double charms as well. He poked his head around the edge of the tapestry and found himself caught up with the group of students heading down to the Great Hall, including, of course, Ron and Hermione.

"HARRY!" Hermione called out and forced her way through, Ron followed in her wake with an apologetic look in his direction, "Where have you been? We were so worried! Professor Flitwick was about to summon Dumbledore - we had to tell him you were in the infirmary, or rather, Ron did - " Figured, Hermione could never lie to Flitwick, not when there was an obvious chance the lie would be found out.

"I just fell asleep, I skived Defense and I -"

"You skived Snape's class? Blimey, Harry, do you have a death wish all of a sudden? Actually, I guess it's not all that sudden..." Ron blurted incredulously and shook his head in Harry's direction, leaving him to screw up his face and look down at his feet as if he were being reprimanded.

"Did he say anything?" Harry couldn't help but ask, at least he would know what it was he'd have to deal with.

"Not a word, actually. We thought he knew something we didn't and that was why -" Hermione trailed off, catching the worried expression on Harry's face.

"He didn't say anything?" This worried Harry more than it settled him, if Snape hadn't said anything...had he gone to Dumbledore? _Fuck._

Hermione and Ron exchanged a quick glance that Harry pretended not to see. He didn't want to deal with whatever it was they wanted to say to him, not right now. He just felt sick, only he hadn't eaten since last night, seeing as the idea of eating breakfast had made him feel infinitely nauseous, especially when his mind was so fixed on -

"C'mon then, Harry, you must be starved, at least you woke up in time for dinner -" Ron started and clapped him on the back as they rounded the corner to the stairs that would lead them down to the Great Hall, only, Harry stopped short and shook his head, blanching at the thought of having to see Professor Snape at the head table.

"I-I'm not hungry, I think I'll just go back to the tower -" Harry murmured and started backtracking, though, clearly, he hadn't been quick enough because both Hermione and Ron looped their arms in his and practically dragged him forward down the stairs and through the opened doors. "Just, fine - okay, fine, let's just sit here." Harry pleaded and dug his heels into the ground until they obliged and dropped down on either side of him.

"Harry, what the bloody hell -"

"If Snape see's me I'll be fucked, Ron, what do you think?"

"Well, if you hadn't skipped his class, Harry -" Hermione started in what sounded eerily close to her know-it-all voice, so close, in fact, that Harry rolled his eyes and lashed out before he could stop himself.

"Yeah, I bloody well get that, thanks, Hermione, truly brilliant observation."

"Lay off her, Harry, it's not her fault -" Ron started defensively as Hermione sighed and withdrew dejectedly into herself.

"You too? You know, fuck it after all, I'll just go to the kitchens." At that, before either of them could say anything to stop him, Harry swept from the table and shoved quickly past the students filing into the hall without taking note that Snape wasn't already at the Professors table and was, instead, on his way inside the Great Hall, eyes peeled for Potter.

Harry tried to duck behind a rather large and burly Hufflepuff but it was too late, Snape had seen him and had caught the collar of his robes swiftly with his long, slender fingers.

"Just the person I was looking for," Snape hissed coolly as Harry gave up his struggle and resigned to letting Snape lead him from the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione staring painfully after him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters or the world they are in, J.K Rowling does!

Warning in this chapter for some language (as all chapters?) as well as brief mentions of abuse. Nothing graphic, just thoughts.

Again guys, the reviews I've gotten so far are encouraging, thank you so much!

* * *

Harry sat as far back from Snape's desk as he could without looking like he was terrified of facing the Potions Master, even though he was markedly sure that he was about to meet some untimely death. At the very least, however, this wasn't going to pleasant in the slightest. Not to mention the fact that he was shaken with rage, sure that Snape had gone running right to Dumbledore with the darkest of Harry's secrets. Or rather, one of the darkest. But he was sure Snape had done some ridiculous amount of deduction and illustrated in gruesome detail the rest of it.

Snape, at the present, was pulling papers onto his desk to grade - leave it to him to have assigned an assignment due only on the second day of classes. No doubt, Harry wouldn't even have the chance to turn his in for some sort of credit. Why should Snape be lenient with him when he never had been before? In all honesty, Harry would have hated him more for it.

After a prolonged silence, Snape finally looked up over his desk before he sat himself and let his onyx eyes bore into the bright green ones of Harry's own. There was something different about Snape from this angle. Maybe it was the fact that he was sitting, sitting and therefore not as commanding a presence as he usually was when he stood above the rest of them, or when Harry was on the ground, looking up. It was then, too, that Harry noticed Snape's hair had lost it's typically greasy and rank quality. In fact, his hair looked quite normal now, (not having spent all day immersed in potion fumes and heat, Harry assumed) despite it's length. In fact, it reminded him something of Sirius -

_Sirius._

The thought still pained him desperately, despite Harry doing his best not to let his thoughts wander too often to his dead godfather, a reminder like this was ridiculous. Maybe he'd gone too long trying to run from his guilt. He shook the thought, physically shook his head and tried to rid himself the weight of Sirius's death and instead tried to return Snape's silent glare with the same vehemency.

"I believe you owe me an explanation, Mr. Potter," finally, finally, Snape's voice cut the heavy air of his office with something that might have resembled a knife, if the cliche was going to be used, it might as well have been formidable.

"I don't owe you anything, I told Professor McGonogall I wanted to drop Defense and she wouldn't let me," Harry blurted quickly, an obvious edge to his voice as he snarled his words in the general direction of the Potions Master, without meeting his eyes. It felt harder to look at Snape _and _speak.

"Try again, without your insolence, and the attitude," Snape instructed, his voice clipped and cold - but that was it. No other insults, no points taken away, no more anger in the room than Harry's own.

Harry swallowed thickly and, deciding not to push his luck, he forced his tone to sound even, "Professor McGonogall wouldn't let me drop your class."

"So you simply decided not to show up for an entire day's worth of lessons?" Professor Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry who dropped his eyes to his hands where they twisted nervously in his lap. This was worse than Snape ranting and raving at him, this was almost - he felt sort of ashamed.

"That part was an accident. I fell asleep," Harry mumbled and looked up through his lashes at Snape who still sat with an eyebrow raised.

"Speak up, Potter."

"I fell asleep!" Harry snapped and sat back again with a huff.

"An entire nights worth of sleep and you still managed to sleep the entire day away, Potter? And this, the boy they've declared to be 'the _Chosen_ one'," Snape sighed and left off before he crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed Harry carefully. He had to keep his wits about him if he wanted to manipulate Potter into a false sense of security, and his _grudges_ would do him no good now.

Furthermore, it would serve for Severus to remember that _Harry Potter_ was not his _father_. Or so Albus said.

"I haven't been -" Harry cut himself off and shook his head, he didn't need to explain himself to Snape, not when the Potions Master was sneering at him like that. _Fuck it, fuck this_.

"And _why_ have you not been sleeping?"

"How did you -"

"Contrary to popular belief, or rather, your own beliefs, I'm not a fool, and the less you continue to take me for one, the less you will find yourself sitting before me with a shell-shocked, dumbfounded look on your painfully irritating face. I'll pose the question one more time, Mr. Potter, why haven't you been sleeping?" Snape waited, though Harry decided he wouldn't try his patience any further than he already had.

"I just can't," Harry murmured, though it was clear he was holding back. Snape raised an eyebrow and waited, so Harry sighed and forced himself to give the Potions Master more than he wanted to, "Nightmares."

"Nightmares," Snape repeated, enunciating every syllable in a way that made even one word sound something ridiculously condescending for absolutely no reason. Harry didn't say anything in return, if Snape expected him to, he was sorely out of luck. Mainly because Harry didn't know what he could possibly offer his Professor after one god damned word, "Are you clearing your mind before you go to sleep?"

Harry looked up sharply at Snape and furrowed his eyebrows. That was it? No scathing remark, no unnecessarily rude comment about him being a pathetic child? "I've been trying, when that doesn't work I just...stay awake and get work done or, I don't know, think?" It was about as honest as he was going to get with Professor Snape, of all people, the closest Snape would get without Legilimency to Harry's mind.

"How do you expect to be an auror if you don't take Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potter? How do you expect to defeat the Dark Lord if you do not even deign to learn the more advanced basics of Defense? I know you are arrogant, Potter, but this is a pig-headed move, even your father could not surpass. Even he knew he needed Defense to become and auror -"

"My dad wanted to be an auror?" All the time that Harry had spent with Sirius, and he'd never even asked...mainly he'd just been catching up on lost time with his Godfather, unable to change the fate of his parents deaths...he hadn't even asked -

"Last I had _heard _he had passed his test and was in further training," Snape informed him, as cordially cold as anyone could have ever been, but Harry would take it nonetheless, "Why did you attempt to drop my class, _Potter_?" This would be the last chance that Snape would give Harry to confess the truth, and Potter had to know that he was wearing thin.

Harry opened his mouth, ready to give an answer but closed it again, quickly catching onto how disarmed Snape's borderline kindness had made him. The _bastard_.

Harry could see right through him now, he could see what Snape was doing, subtly trying to push Harry until he walked into the trap he had manipulated so snake-like that Harry felt dirty just sitting across from him.

Snape wanted to pull something from him that he had done his absolute best to bury since coming back to Hogwarts. Whatever Snape was planning on doing with the very memories that Harry wanted to desperately to just _leave behind him_, Harry wanted no part of it. He didn't need any help, not that Snape would ever truly help Harry unless Dumbledore didn't order him to. It was exactly the move a _Slytherin_ would make, and Snape had long since drawn that line between them. He was manipulating one of the most painful memories in Harry's life, to try and pull another out of him. "I don't want to be an auror. Training as an auror will only serve to distract me from the real task at hand. I won't be taught to kill Voldemort, at least, not by one of his _Death Eater lackeys_, and I see no point in wasting my time sitting through _your_ version of Defense Against the Dark Arts, a position you only got because Dumbledore _pities_ you," Harry's chest was heaving with effort by the time he was finished.

Questioning not only Snape's loyalty, but his abilities after everything Severus Snape _had_ done for him? It was disgusting, a lower blow than Snape had dealt himself. Harry didn't feel bad, he was too busy reveling in his _shame_. The thing Snape truly wanted from Harry was too _painful_, too _shameful_ for Harry to admit. He was a _wizard_, and he'd let someone like _Vernon_ do something unforgivable to him. He would rather lash out at Snape a million times over than let Snape humiliate him again.

"Is that the answer you plan to stick with, _Potter_?" Snape's onyx eyes glittered with the prospect of verbally lacerating every inch of Harry _Potter_, the surname that had proven to be the bane of his existence for [i]two[/i] generations.

"Yes."

"Yes, _sir_."

"We've had this conversation before -"

"_Potter_ -"

"There's no need to call me _sir_."

Snape stood then and flicked his wand sharply so that Harry's chair yanked violently away from the desk and turned to follow him as Snape paced around his desk and stood right before Harry, giving the _child_ no place else to look - _but_ directly at him.

"The _Dark Lord_, Potter, in my presence - and you shall be seeing a lot of me - will be known as the _Dark Lord,_ and only that. You're correct, for once in your illustrious career, in saying that I cannot teach you, but you are sorely misled if you truly believe that anyone possibly _could_. While I am not a man capable of sympathy, I most certainly won't blame the next person who attempts to aid you when they turn you away after they witness your innate ability to remain inept, no matter the brigand of naive children you have tailing after you like lost _puppies_, as if they truly believe your simpleminded-self can get by on something other than the sacrifices that others have made for you."

Snape flicked his wand again causing the chair beneath Harry to vanish entirely and, for a moment, Severus genuinely enjoyed the way Potter's arms flailed as he grasped for something to latch onto. With strong, agile hands, Severus caught a handful of Harry's robes and kept him from hitting the cold stone floor. In that moment, Harry was incredibly aware of the strength and speed that Severus Snape could move with, and realized he was sorely outnumbered.

At least with Vernon, he could run.

The irony of this situation wasn't lost on him, Snape clutching the front of Harry's robes, in absolute control of Harry's immediate _fate_. "Detention for a month, whenever I do so choose." Snape released the front of Harry's robes, but Harry managed to get his feet under him in time to keep himself from falling,

"Forty points from Gryffindor for your insatiable need to have truly _talented_ witches and wizard lay their necks on the line for your disparagingly pathetic, infuriatingly half-witted and truly _trivial_ existence, ten more for your lack-witted remarks. You are undeserving, and you seem successful in proving that more and more _every_day," Snape clasped his hands in front of him and looked down his nose at Harry with a disgust Harry had been used to his entire life, "Since you will have an adequate amount of time playing 'The-Coward-Who-Can't-Sleep due to your [i]bad dreams[/i], I expect three feet of parchment covering the material we went over in class today, as well as the essay I assigned for homework before your first detention tomorrow, 7:30 _sharp_." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Snape spoke right over him with an unfailingly sinister glare, "Failure to meet my standards on these assignments will result in expulsion from the quidditch team, as well as more House Points. And then, I will go to the Headmaster, and I am supremely sure you know how that conversation will go. Now _get_ out of my sight."

Harry tore away from Snape's paralyzing gaze then, grabbed his school bag from the floor, and very nearly ran for the door. He had just almost made it out when Snape spoke one last time with the intention to _maim_, "It is no loss for the auror department, Potter, if you do not wish to join them. I daresay you would have made an even more pathetic imitation than your father."

* * *

A/N: What do you think, did I drive the knife in hard enough?


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the character or the world they are in, that belongs to J.K Rowling!

Warning in this chapter for language and perhaps some minor suicidal tendencies/thoughts? Let's just say this could perhaps be triggering for some?

Thanks for the reviews, guys, I really appreciate them and I'm trying to get back to everyone who's sent me one! I'd also love to know what you think about Snape so far, believable? Am I writing how he speaks okay? I'm, like, exercising the thesaurus ridiculously when I get him on one of his tirades. Did I just use "like" and commas in the same sentence? Yup.

Happy reading!

* * *

"Just leave me _alone_, Hermione, Merlin - don't look at me like that, Ron, I don't give a fuck."

Harry shoved past them both and headed for the dormitory, where he had hopped for peace, only he heard their footsteps falling on the stairs behind him.

"Harry, tell us what happened - what did he say to you? Are you alright?" Hermione didn't seem to understand the fact that he wanted to be left bloody well alone, "You don't look alright, Harry, and you haven't eaten -" He whipped around as soon as they stepped through the door to the sixth year boy dormitory and threw his things on the floor behind him.

"Like either of you would even notice whether or not I was _fine_, it took you half the bloody summer to even give a shit about the fact that you hadn't heard a word from me, like you would know a single thing about what I went through, what I'm going through - neither of you have lost a bloody thing in your _life!_" Harry spat and stepped up like he was going to force them out, only Ron jumped between him and Hermione as if he thought Harry would attack her. That caused him to take a hesitant step backwards, his apology plain on his face.

"You need to tone it down, Harry, we're just trying to help you. If you don't want it, if you'd rather treat us like _this? _Then, fine, you're on your own, mate. Let's go, 'Mione," Ron turned and took Hermione by the hand. They were gone then, but not before Hermione cast a worried look over her shoulder in Harry's direction. He steeled the stony expression on his face and glared at their retreating backs as they left him.

He let out a shout of frustration and aimed a fierce kick at his trunk, ignoring the pain that shot from his toes and up the length of his foot. _Pain,_ that's right, pain was something he was used to. It was a constant in his life when nothing else was. He climbed into his four poster, drew the curtains around his bed and cast a silencing charm to give himself some privacy.

Harry had told himself over and over on the way back to Gryffindor Tower that nothing Snape had said was true, that he'd just been trying to hurt Harry - it had worked, it did hurt. Everything Harry had convinced himself of over the summer, since Cedric had been murdered because of him really, Snape had just so callously thrown in his face. He spent most of his life listening to adults convince him of one thing or the other, adults pulling his thoughts and his guilt back and forth across him like he wasn't even there. Only he was there and he was the one that had to deal with everything left behind when they forgot about him.

_...lay their necks on the line for your disparagingly pathetic, infuriatingly half-witted and truly trivial existence..._

Numerous witches and wizards had done more than just lay their necks on the line for him, they'd _died_ for him. He'd killed them, or he might as well have.

Harry let out another violent cry of frustration and slammed his fists against his pillow, but it wasn't the same punishment as a blow to the ribs, or the sting of a sharp backhand. He deserved everything he got, he deserved it all, he didn't deserve the warm comfort of Hogwarts when Sirius was cold and dead, when Cedric was cold and dead, when his parents had sacrificed themselves for him. A truly trivial existence - Snape had hit that nail on the head.

Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of all time, surely, he could kill Voldemort if it came down to it. Snape could poison Voldemort if he had to, his most _loyal _and _trusted _servant...they didn't need Harry to do it. Harry was useless, entirely useless. They could do without him, everyone would be so much better off, so much happier without him.

Most of all, they would be _alive _without him.

It was not the first time that Harry had posed himself with this harsh reality, but it was the first time that Harry wondered if it were possible to turn his wand on himself. He had sworn to himself that the only time he would ever utter the Killing curse would be on Voldemort himself, but now he wondered if he was wasting time in not _practicing_ it on himself.

Harry dug his nails hard into his palm, and then harder until he broke through skin and could relish in the mild sting left behind. It wasn't enough, but he wouldn't become one of those muggle news specials he overheard under the living-room window outside the Dursley's whilst getting his yard work done. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and bit down hard there as well before he tangled his hands in his hair and tried to get the constant repetition of Snape's voice to leave his head.

It didn't matter whether or not the words repeated themselves over and over, Harry still knew the truth.

He was responsible for the deaths of anyone that got close to him and he deserved what he got.

* * *

"- gave Mr. Potter a tongue-lashing even I could be proud of."

"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not just yet," Snape muttered under his breath and dropped his face in his hands while he waited for Albus to speak. The Headmaster wasn't going to be happy with him, not if Phineas Nigellus was complimenting the way he'd verbally abused Potter in his office just before. Whereas he once only aimed to knock the brat down a few pegs, Severus was sure that he had succeeded in wiping Harry off the entire pedestal he'd been placed on by the rest of the wizarding world. By Albus, himself.

Albus let out a long sigh and stared at Severus over the rims of his half-moon spectacles, "It is not as if you have never verbally-sparred with Harry before, Severus, what is it about this time that has you at war with yourself?"

Severus look up from his hands and opened his mouth to answer only he forced himself to close it again, feeling all too similar to Potter when he had sat before him, opening and closing his mouth, fighting with himself to speak.

If he told Albus what had him so torn up, Potter would become even more insufferable than ever, Snape would have betrayed his confidence in a way that was unforgivable...but since when had he ever bloody cared about Potter's confidence? Since when had he ever given a second thought to what it was that Potter _wanted__. _

"He was worse for wear when I retrieved him this summer, and I threw it all back in his face -"

"After all this time, you've finally come to feel for the boy?"

"_Absolutely not,_" Snape hissed and pushed himself to his feet, tempted to lash out at the Headmaster the same way Harry had when he knocked a number of trinkets and prized possessions off of the Headmaster's desk, "I don't always deeply enjoy being as cruel as I am."

"The life you've been through has left you few other choices, Severus."

"I don't want your pity, Albus, I want you to be angry with me for verbally degrading your _Golden Boy_!"

"Oh, Severus," The smile on Dumbledore's face was irritatingly kind, and Snape spun away from the Headmaster with a scoff and paced his office, all whilst casting Dumbledore a scathing look now and again, "You're angry with me because I won't treat you the same way you've treated young Harry," it wasn't a question, it was more of a statement, something that Dumbledore felt the need to point out in order to work some sense into Snape, "It's a foolish thing to wish for, Severus, I believe you've done your best by Harry. You may not have treated him with kindness, but you've never harmed the boy, and I don't believe he's come to harm when you have a hand in protecting him. You did rescue him from a dreadful summer with his relatives, you saved him the trouble of being jumped by more muggles. He is in too rough a place to understand that you deserve true thanks for that."

Severus froze and turned to face the Headmaster full-on, a skeptical look on his face. Dumbledore was praising him for his lackadaisical efforts with Potter? Sure, Snape had...'rescued' him, as Dumbledore had put it, Snape had looked out for Harry, despite the fact that he someone seemed to befall every damned thing there was to befall within a kilometer's radius. Dumbledore, as all-knowing and wise, the archetype of all archetypes, did not know the extent of all things Harry Potter had been through, Severus would be that there was no one in the world now who did.

While he was not capable of sympathy, especially not for the likes of Potter, he could not help but feel a possessive need to be protective of the ruddy brat.

And so, instead of divulging Potter's secrets, he merely stared down the Headmaster and, after a prolonged silence uttered a stoic, "I _suppose_."

At least, Potter could thank him for _this. _

* * *

Harry stumbled down to the Common Room hours later, expecting it to be empty - only Hermione was sitting there like she'd been waiting for him. He froze on the bottom step, only to realize that she was clearly copying over her notes, for him, with tears in her eyes, "I thought y-you might need the notes from cl-class," she stuttered in a way that made Harry feel like absolute scum. He had two best friends that were bending over backwards for him, and all he did was take them for granted and push them away.

Maybe it was for the better. They wouldn't get killed if he pushed them far enough away.

Only, he knew he wouldn't make it without them. Hermione, her goodness and her brilliance. Ron, his genuinely kind and giving nature, his strong-will.

They were far better than he would ever be.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I shouldn't have spoken to you or Ron like that. Snape just - he got to me a little and I didn't know how to handle it without making it out like it was your fault," it was a clumsy apology at best, but it seemed to satisfy Hermione who sat up straight and gave him a tender smile before she patted the couch cushion next to her.

"I forgive you, Harry, Ron might need a little more convincing but I think I understand, or well -" she surveyed Harry's face carefully, like she was still nervous to upset him and set him off, "I don't _understand _what you're going through, but I get why you were angry. You're used to handling everything on your own," She said this like it was the most sensible thing ever, and Harry supposed it was. He was used to doing everything on his own, taking matters into his own hands, he was reckless and arrogant, all the things that Snape had said...and he had deserved, "Here, this is everything we went over in class. And I put together a list of questions for you to answer in essay form for Professor Snape's homework assignment so it should be a little easier," she waited for him to take it and gave his hand a squeeze once he finally did.

"I - I owe you for this, Snape gave me three feet to turn in tomorrow night before detention," Harry muttered appreciatively in her direction, she winced sympathetically.

"Ron will forgive you as soon as he hears that. I think it's penance enough," Hermione teased with a wink before a long yawn had her pushing herself to her feet, "I'm going to turn in for the night and you should soon, too. I can help with the rest off your essay tomorrow, if you'd like. Good night, Harry."

He swallowed thickly as Hermione smiled warmly one last time and turned away to head up the steps to the girls dormitory.

Harry looked down at the notes in his hand and flicked through them absentmindedly, his mouth dropping at the detail Hermione had given him, she'd even gone through and marked paragraphs that held key information for the essay she'd basically outlined for him. He didn't deserve any of this, but as an insatiable, _pathetic _child, he used them anyway and spent the entire night working on Snape's assignments.

" -arry, Harry? _Harry_!" Ron shouted, not unkindly, and shook him awake, Harry started and jumped up after what could have only been a half hour of sleep, and spilled his inkpot everywhere, but Ron managed to yank his parchment up and out of the way while it was still salvageable, "That would have been a killer, mate, 'Mione told me you had three feet to get done, we let you sleep through breakfast but she grabbed a few things to eat for you before class...Honestly, mate, Snape looked murderous today when you weren't in the Great Hall and I, well, I just wanted to say everything's all good, between us, I mean. I wasn't really angry with you, I just didn't understand why you were so angry with _us. _But I do now, Snape must have been a right prick."

Harry couldn't help but snort and grin in Ron's direction, "You've no idea, shouldn't we get going to...?" Harry frowned and trailed off, realizing then that he had no ruddy clue what class he had.

"Herbology, mate, then potions. Double defense after lunch," Ron reminded him with a shake of his head and clapped him on the back, "You're a right tosser sometimes, Potter, I swear."

The grin that followed was enough to get Harry to laugh along before he ran to change his robes and cast a few charms to keep himself from looking like the absolute mess that he was.

* * *

A/N: Harry deserves one decently ended chapter, no? Unfortunately, the next one won't end as decent...


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the character or the world they are in, that belongs to J.K Rowling!

Warnings in this chapter for cursing and the usual bits about abuse. Perhaps triggering. And again, thank you all for the reviews, they've made me super happy!

I know I said you were going to get two chapters yesterday, but I got home from work and was dead on my feet! I'll do more updates today! :)

Happy reading!

* * *

Harry had managed to make it through the entire day of classes, despite the fact that he would have to face Snape at the end of his day - not only in class, but in detention with him as well. After how their last..._meeting _had gone, if you could call it that, he was dreading it with every fiber of his being, but was doing his best _not _to let it get to him in a way that would have Ron and Hermione sharing sidelong glances. The last thing he needed was either of his friends noticing that something was off, _horribly _off, if Harry was being honest with himself.

How could he face Snape after what had been said? What _he'd _said to his Potions Master (or was he the Defense Master, now?), it had been wrong. Low, cruel, sneaky, deceptive - whatever Snape wanted to throw at him for it, he deserved infinitely.

It wasn't until after lunch that the panic really began to set in. Ron and Hermione were standing from the table then, reminding Harry that they had planned at breakfast to get to Defense early and find a seat in the middle where Harry was less likely to be seen and attacked the way it usually went in potions. Only, Harry didn't plan on getting lost in the crowd. Instead, he would sit front and center, where he could face Snape's brutality on his own, he _deserved _it, after all. He and Snape both knew that.

Ron and Hermione both tried to flank him on either side, but he brushed them off and nodded to the table behind him, like he could be some kind of buffer in case Snape tried to take Harry's _insolence _out on his best friends. It would be easier now, if he could pretend he was making himself vulnerable for their sake when, in reality, he was doing this because he deserved it. He wanted to hear what Snape would throw at him today, it wouldn't be the same sort of pain, but it would hurt no less.

Class filed in quickly, the lucky ones were agape to see that the trio had not taken their usual seats and instead, worked around them.

Harry looked up from his hands only to see Draco Malfoy dropping carelessly into the seat beside him, Crabbe and Goyle were no where to be found - and Harry realized they must not have gotten the substantial OWL scores to take Snape's class. A funny sort of pride filled him then, everyone in his year that had been a part of Dumbledore's Army had made the required mark. At least he had done something right last year. Though, the death of Sirius could hardly compare to a meager brigand of naive puppies, as Snape had so coolly put it.

"How's your nose, Potter?" Malfoy spat with a smirk once he'd realized his presence had not entirely disarmed Harry like it should have.

"Just fine, Malfoy, how's yours?"

"_Mine_?"

"Yes, _yours_? It looks a right side worse than it normally does."

Ron snickered behind him and Hermione could only raise her eyebrows and keep her head down to hide her grin. Harry vaguely pulled the memory of Hermione delivering a well-placed punch in third year and wished for a moment that Malfoy could see what he was thinking. It was his own mild revenge, of sorts, and it kept him distracted from whatever Malfoy was hissing at him until Snape entered the classroom in his usual robe-billowing and menacing omnipresence.

"We will be practicing non-verbal spell casting once again. And I_ believe _you will all partner with the person sitting beside you." Snape decided coolly upon letting his eyes fall over Harry and Draco. If Snape was surprised to see Harry was not only in class, but front and center, he gave no notion of it.

Harry followed suit and stood, just in time, as Snape vanished the tables and chairs with a quick flick of his wand, snorts of laughter and surprised _oomphs _echoed through the classroom among those who were not quite so lucky. Harry wouldn't fall for that again, standing under the control of Snape was not something he cared to relive.

"Third-year level offense _only_, anyone using anything but will lose their house fifty points, if you don't believe me, ask Potter, he lost Gryffindor house sixty points alone just yesterday." Ah, there it was, and the resounding groans of Gryffindor were not lost on his ears as he turned red and flashed them all an apologetic glance._  
_

"_Sixty points_ in one day, Potter? That's got to be a record of pure stupidity, even for you," Malfoy quipped with a smirk before they moved to stand opposite one another. Malfoy had flicked his wand (a curse muttered under his breath) in Harry's direction before Harry even had the chance to turn around properly, and he had shouted _protego _quickly without a second thought.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter, we are practicing _non-verbal _spellwork today, or have you already replaced that memory with your usual pigheaded arrogance?" Harry pursed his lips and turned away from Snape's cold, blank eyes, not even an inkling of remorse. Harry didn't want remorse, that was good, if there was one person that would always treat him the same, one person that he could count on to make his life living hell, it was Snape.

And Malfoy, of course.

It was Harry's turn to hex Malfoy, of course, Harry would have loved nothing more than to knock the little-ferret flat on his arse, but with Snape watching, he merely put all his thought, all his _focus _into disarming Malfoy and thought desperately _expelliarmus!_

Nothing happened.

Snape turned away with a smirk and began to pace the classroom, stared blankly at Hermione who was performing excellently, and awarded Pansy Parkinson five points for _effort._

Effort. Right.

Harry tried to disarm Draco again, only this time he had his anger towards Snape to fuel him on and when he thought the disarming spell in his head with firm intent, this time...it _worked. _Malfoy's wand flew into his outstretched hand with a satisfying catch to punctuate his efforts.

Malfoy looked _pissed_ as the rest of the class (save for Slytherin, of course) broke into murmurs and tittered with laughter.

"Give me back my wand, Potter," he hissed menacingly.

"Come get it," Harry told him and held it with an outstretched arm. The first swipe Malfoy made for it, Harry pulled it away with a grin as Malfoy sneered.

"You emaciated, mudblood loving little _freak," _Malfoy spat and lunged for it again, this time Harry let him have it and tried his hand again at non-verbal spell-casting, and, this time, Malfoy was reduced to uncontrollable laughter at the hands of Harry's spell while Harry looked on in pride.

At the very least, he could handle Defense Against the Dark Arts with Malfoy.

"How's your dad, Draco, is he enjoying Azkaban? Oh, that's funny, is it?" Harry egged him on, though he didn't expect Malfoy to lose his cool so quickly - Harry supposed it was because his mother wasn't around to stop him from strangling Harry like she'd been in Diagon Alley over the summer.

Malfoy abandoned his wand when he realized he couldn't get a spell to work while he continued to break up in laughter and lunged at Harry again, this time tackling him to the ground until he was able to get some leverage and aim a poor punch against Harry's jaw. They were a sight and a half, Malfoy broken up in laughter, all whilst doing his best to punch Harry who was squirming uncomfortable under the weight of Malfoy's legs, pinning him in a way that was all_ too_ familiar. Malfoy's hands were at his throat next. Vaguely, Harry felt the painful memory of Vernon's sausage fingers wrapped so tight around his throat that welted imprints had lingered the next few days, and bruises for the days thereafter. In that moment, Malfoy _was _Vernon, Harry couldn't tell the difference between the two of them.

"Gerroff me - " Harry struggled to speak and tried to shove at Malfoy's chest, "Stop it, _stop _Uncle Vern-"

_BANG!_

Students had just begun to gather, but the only people that gave notice that they'd heard what Harry had said were Malfoy himself, and Snape, who had successfully broken up the fight, stopped Malfoy's incessant laughter, and dismissed the rest of the class in all but a few brief moments.

Once Malfoy was off of him, Harry rolled to his hands and knees, gasped a fresh breath of air and forced himself to his feet without looking at the platinum-blonde aggressor or his Professor.

"Weasley. Granger. When I said _out _did you not understand me?" Snape's voice was firm, but steady and commanding.

"Please, Professor, we just thought we'd wait for -"

"Mr. Potter is perfectly capable of escorting himself back to his dormitory. In any case, Mr. Potter has a detention to serve with me, and I believe we'll start just now, anyway. You are dismissed, do not make me tell you again." With an apologetic glance in Harry's direction, both Ron and Hermione left the room and Snape closed the door to the classroom with a bang to ward off any eavesdroppers. "One of you is going to explain _what _that was, or neither of you will be leaving at any point in the near future."

Harry couldn't have spoken, even if he wanted to. And he didn't. Want to, that it. He couldn't find the words to explain what had happened just then, couldn't figure out how he had, quite literally, been convinced that Malfoy was his Uncle, that Malfoy would take the abuse another step -

"Potter was antagonizing me, he...he mentioned Father, he - he took my wand!"

Harry stayed silent.

"If I remember correctly, Draco, Potter disarmed you."

Both Harry and Draco's jaws dropped accordingly then, since when had Snape ever put Malfoy's story straight, especially in Harry's favor?

"You are dismissed, Draco, Potter will be serving detention with me all night, as well as his remedial potions lessons."

Draco smirked, smug with the prospect of Harry spending an entire night at Snape's torturous hands. Malfoy turned for the door, but halfway there, he stopped and turned back to look at Harry with genuine curiosity, "Potter. Why did you call me that? _Who _is Uncle Vern?" Harry went entirely rigid and glared at Malfoy with such malice he felt he could had cast a spell without his hand then.

"I didn't," Harry lied easily, "You were laughing so hard you didn't hear me correctly."

"Oh? Then what _did_ you say?" Malfoy hissed curiously, content on trapping Harry into something he couldn't get out of.

"Enough, Mr. Malfoy," Snape hissed dismissively once more and glared until Malfoy turned with a sneer and left, leaving Harry alone with Snape.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **The characters and world they are in belong to J.K Rowling, I'm just borrowing them for this story.

This story contains coarse language, abuse (mental, physical, and sexual). There will eventually be a teacher/student relationship (Snarry)-and yes, there is an age gap between them. Mild suicidal tendencies (or rather, thoughts and ideals) as well as very, very mild versions of self-harm. Just a reminder in case anyone forgot?

I know I said I'd have this chapter out a while ago, but then my semester started and sort of kicked my ass, haha! Forgive me, and enjoy this Chapter 12 re-write!

A/N: This chapter is long, but essential in giving me a start-off point or a few ideas. It may seem a bit boring, though I do promise the next few will be more exciting. Again, after a really helpful review and some correspondence with a fellow writer (I'm sure you know who you are!) I decided to rewrite this chapter because I wasn't pleased with how the first draft came out, and I plan on making this story longer than I had originally. I hope you can forgive me (again!) for the wait, and stick with me for the rest of the story!

* * *

Harry refused to meet Snape's eyes, but that was nothing new as of late. This time was different. He knew the moment he met Snape's onyx eyes, hard and unwavering, he'd crumble in the worst of ways. How could he have been so _stupid_? Not to mention _careless _with his words - Malfoy, of all bloody people, should not have been able to pull that sort of reaction out of him. He'd gotten lost in it, utterly lost in the not-so-vague memories of Vernon pounding on him, and _into _him as well.

This summer had been the worst, thus far, and he still had yet another to live out. If he could manage to live through it at all, and he truly didn't know if he would.

Previous summers had always started and ended the same, he went into them, expecting the worst and went back to Hogwarts without being disappointed. Aches and pains followed him often throughout the first month of school. Nightmares were constant. Memories endless.

Snape had healed him before he'd gone to the Burrow, his _pain _in that respect, was gone. He had been determined not to let the rape break him, he had been constant in sealing himself off from Ron and Hermione enough so that they wouldn't even think to ask him the questions he didn't want to answer. And now, now he was back at Hogwarts, the one place that was supposed to be safe for him, the one place he could revert back to being the _Hero _he was prophesied to be and not the weak, pathetic mongrel of a _child._

He was supposed to be able to leave it all behind when he got to school, memories would always be endless - but at least before this summer he had been able to swallow it deep enough that not even the sharpest of Voldemort's cuts could have drawn it forth. Voldemort, essentially, had been the reason all those years that he had been able to distract himself from the abuse. Only, this time, he couldn't shake the feeling of his Uncle's hands off of him, couldn't shake the feeling of his Uncle _violating _him the way he had-

"_Potter!_" The yell came so sudden and sharp that Harry jumped, nearly right out of his skin, and his eyes were involuntarily drawn up to Snape's, "Must I write you an invitation before you heed my words and _sit down?_" Snape hissed, his patience clearly worn thin, as if that wasn't the first time he'd called Harry's name. Harry realized it must not have been, he had truly been lost in his thoughts, angry with himself for his pathetic stupidity -

_And this, ladies and gentleman, your supposed savior..._Harry thought bitterly to himself as he dropped into the nearest chair, consequently the furthest one from Snape at that moment.

If Snape picked up on Harry's discomfort, he made no mention of it and instead slid easily to brace his hands on either sides of the desk Harry was sat at, a desk that must have been re-summoned when he'd been lost in his reverie.

"And what, _pray tell, Potter, _was that despicable showing in my classroom?" Snape snarled in a way that had Harry immediately defensive.

"Why don't you ask _Malfoy_, he's the one who was strangling me, unless you turned a blind eye to that as well -"

"I saw everything. I _see _everything, Potter. Where you could have let the situation be won simply by maintaining Draco's wand, you decided to provoke him. _Why?_" Snape's words caught him off guard, and Harry was sure that they'd been doing that more often than was typical, but he said nothing about the lack of ferocity in them.

"He broke my nose on the train, I wanted revenge."

"_Liar,_" Snape knocked his excuse off easily and Harry watched in awe as he managed to curl his lips in a snarl and keep them menacingly pursed all at the same time, "You wanted a fight. You were looking for one."

"I was not -"

"Save it for someone who can't see through you, Potter. I won't have you fighting like a muggle in my classroom, and if I ever so much as hear any combination of the words _Lucius Malfoy, Azkaban, _or _Father _in the same sentence, you will sorely regret it. Do not test me, Potter, nor Draco."

Harry stood to leave, then, as if he thought they were finished-

"If I remember correctly, Potter, you have a detention to serve."

"But sir, dinner -"

"You and I know very well that you don't plan on making it to dinner. Is that the plan, Chosen One? Starve yourself until someone comes along and holds your hand through it? I've got news for you, Potter, I certainly won't do it," Snape told him very clearly, leaving no room for any sort of argument, "That being said, the last thing I need is for you to be carried to the infirmary from my office. You will eat before we begin Occlumency, and you will eat to my satisfaction," Snape punctuated his words with a deadly precision that Harry found himself in awe of, or rather, he would have been in awe of it, if he wasn't the one on the receiving end.

Harry pursed his lips hard once he realized there was no way out of this without digging himself a deeper hole.

"No objections? My, my, isn't that a first for you," Snape trailed off intentionally and turned his back on Harry, pausing only to turn just slightly back over his shoulder with a curt gesture of his head. Harry hesitated until Snape started off again and entered his office. Harry went slowly, as slowly as he thought he would be able to get away with before Snape snapped at him in his usual fashion.

He dropped plainly into one of the chairs across from Snape at a small table set with plate, goblets, and cutlery enough for two. It was as if Snape had planned to hold this impromptu dinner well before he and Malfoy had gotten into their scuffle. It certainly wasn't going to be pleasant sitting this close to Snape knowing that each one of his moves was going to be surveyed carefully, whether or not he caught Snape in the act.

"Pumpkin juice or water?"

"What?" Harry blanched, startled at the mild words coming from Snape, of all people - why in the fuck did he keep doing that? Flipping his switch on and off at the drop of a hat?

"_Pump_kin juice _or_ water?" Snape enunciated very firmly, a clouded look on his face, like he couldn't believe what idiocy sat before him -

"Water. Please," Harry added hastily, as if to prove that he wasn't entirely in-eloquent. The Dursley's had been quite keen on beating his manners into him, at the very least and he supposed Snape was the person, if any, that he would have to show them to here at Hogwarts. Most other Professor's were easy to respect, but after Snape had verbally degraded Harry for five years? Harry found it more than a struggle to display what was so deeply ingrained (and scarred somewhere) into his skin.

As Snape sat, the table before them filled with what must have been a more manageable portion of the dinner being served in the Great Hall. For a minute, Harry wondered briefly how this worked. In the Kitchens there were tables set to mock the layout of the Great Hall so that the elves could simply set the food out and have it waiting to send up - this table, naturally, was no where near the kitchens...

"Something wrong, Potter?" Snape cut into his thoughts, unapologetic, mind you, and Harry looked up quickly to see Snape glaring at him and his empty plate in turn.

"No, I was just -" But Harry only shrugged his shoulders and reached for his water glass to swallow what Snape would, no doubt, see as pointless curiosity.

"Just? Just _what_? Must we all always hold your hand through every mundane little thing, Potter? Do you not know how to speak your mind or make a harmless inquiry?" Snape sounded angry (when didn't he?) but there was something else there too, a sort of push in his tone, like he expected to be able to make Harry talk.

Whatever he was getting at worked.

"It's just - in the kitchens the House Elves prepare everything and set it out on tables so that it can be sent right up to the Great Hall. I don't suppose you cooked all of this yourself, so I was just curious as to how Dobby and the others would know to send food here as well. Of course, if you warned them beforehand, they would have known, but I would have heard them popping in and out unless there's a special table set aside for the brooding Potions Master when he chooses to take his meals in angst-ridden solitude?" Snape's snapping had pulled a cheeky sort of life out of Harry that he hadn't remember feeling, at least, he hadn't remember feeling it in a long time. Fuck the house points Snape would take away for it, it felt good to speak his mind. Or a cleaner version of it.

To his sheer surprise, he saw the faintest glimmer of a quirked eyebrow, a quirked eyebrow that might have held something like amusement if there had been a smile to go with it, but Snape never smiled, and Harry didn't expect he was about to start now, was he?

"Tell me, Potter, do you always wonder so deeply about such trivial matters? The food is here, in front of you, what ever is so important about how it got there?"

"I guess I'm not sure if you've poisoned it or not," Harry offered in a bored, hollow tone of voice, "You asked what I was going to say so I told you, if you didn't want to know, you shouldn't have asked, _sir_. Next time I'll remember not to oblige you that."

"I did not say that I did not want to know, Mr. Potter. If you understood the subtleties of speech, you might have picked up on the fact that I was more curious as to whether or not you always analyze everything so carefully, and why. I though, perhaps, if I related such a serious question to something that was more relative to your..._underdeveloped _mind, I would get an actual answer out of you that might help further you in Occlumency."

"Oh."

"_Oh, _indeed," Snape muttered under his breath as he turned his attention to Harry's plate with a pointed glare. Harry got that message and scooped a bit of potatoes on his plate, a portion of sliced turkey, and vegetables as well. The tidings were all impossibly meager and Snape waited for Harry to take more, "That's inadequate, Potter."

"What's inadequate?" Harry wondered incredulously, looking down at himself as if he had done something wrong.

"Your dinner is nothing but a glorified snack, as well-balanced as it might appear. You will have to take more."

"But I'm not -"

"_Take _more, Potter."

"If I eat more than this I'll be sick! I won't last through your bloody Occlumency lesson if I have a full stomach -" a larger part of him was worried about the sickness that would come from having to see Cedric in the graveyard, Sirius falling through the veil, his Uncle, his Uncle, his _disgusting _Uncle. If he ate too much just yet, the things Snape would pull into his conscious mind would be too sickening to take.

It was frustrating, this wasn't his choice-he'd put on a bit of weight at the Burrow, and yet, still, here he was-underweight and picking at food like a pathetic little rabbit. Or worse - like _Scabbers, _ had been. Peter Pettigrew, looking for scraps in disguise - that thought in itself was enough to make him nauseous. Wormtail was out there, _alive _(as fleeting and begging as his existence might seem) Wormtail was alive and Sirius was dead.

"Eat then, Potter," Severus uttered lowly and managed to give up his anger for the briefest of moments, once he caught the look on Potter's face. Severus watched the boy intently until he brought a meager forkful to his mouth. The way Potter at looked like he was suffering something _painful,_ and Severus forced himself to avert his eyes elsewhere, so as not to make the brat even more uncomfortable.

It was a few minutes before he realized that Potter had stopped eating again, "If you won't eat, Potter, we'll talk. I have quite a few things to discuss with you..." at that, Harry shoved another forkful into his mouth and Severus nodded curtly, "That is what I thought."

They continued in silence, a silence that Severus was content to remain enamored with, seeing as it was far more enjoyable to eat his meal in peace without Potter arguing his every bloody word or acting like he was going to hex him at a moments notice. Harry finished just after himself, but Snape was content to let the boy take his time, if only because he was worried for the cleanliness of his throw rug, should Potter's hasty eating leave him making sick all over the ruddy floor - the boy did have a point.

"Are we going to start now?" Harry asked finally, after what seemed like a length of intense silence. Had the boy been uncomfortable all that time? It was funny, Severus himself had hardly minded.

"We are," but before Severus could go on, Harry was pushing away from the table and began to pile a few of the empty dishes together, Snape raised one angular eyebrow at this, "For one thing, Mr. Potter, the House Elves will take care of the dishes left on the table. For _another, _where did you plan to wash them yourself?" Harry frowned and furrowed his eyebrows before he looked up from the plates to Snape, as if this were a trick question, "Moreover, are you a wizard or not?" The boys cheeks darkened a few shades crimson and he opened his mouth to apologize, Severus decided to beat him to it - and cut his stammering short, "I don't require an explanation, it was just a curious observation. I would not have you for dinner and expect you to clean my dishes, Potter. Furthermore, we won't be getting right into the actual act of occlusion just yet. The Headmaster believe it would be fundamentally important to discuss the rudimentary aspects of occlumens in depth."

This was not entirely true.

Severus had been under the impression that the Headmaster had done this with Potter last year when he had informed him that Harry would be receiving his private lessons. Apparently the Albus had believed that merely thrusting Potter into it firsthand would force him to adjust quicker under the pressure of exposing his mind to a professor he did not entirely trust.

The manipulation in itself was exceedingly unfair. And left Severus himself feeling mildly mislead.

Harry sat.

"Watch," Severus muttered and tapped the table twice with his wand. For a moment, nothing happened, until finally, the dishes vanished, no doubt sent down to be taken care of by the House Elves. Harry looked more confused by Snape's demonstration. Severus decided to continue without further ado, "I was told by...a colleague of mine that you were able to resist the Dark Lord's _Imperius_ curse during the Triwizard Tournament incident," Harry nodded and Snape continued, "Occlumency is much like that. _Resistance _is key. I had originally told you to _clear your mind _when we began lessons a year prior, I am now under the impression that that was the wrong route to take."

Harry raised his head casually, like he was trying not to be as intrigued as Snape could see he was. Those eyes, Lily's green eyes - they had always been far more expressive than they had a right to be and often were his undoing.

"Instead of clearing your mind, I am telling you now to fill your mind with only one thought, one emotion, perhaps even one memory that involves _both. _That way, when I use Legilimency, I will be met first and foremost with _that. _The further I take my assaults, the more you will concentrate on showing me only what you are occupying your mind with."

"So, sort of like casting a patronous, right? If I focus on something happy -"

"Correct."

Harry nodded, and Snape was sure that meant the boy understood, but then he began worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth.

"Problem, Potter?"

"It's just - I...no."

"What is it? If you have a question, ask. It will clear things up and waste less of my time."

"I don't know if I have a memory that evokes both a thought and emotion similar enough to be the only thing occupying my mind. If you play on the differences between the two, won't you be able to poke holes enough to see past what I'm showing you?"

Severus pursed his lips. The boy raised a good point, not that he planned on giving him the knowledge of that. He wasn't here to praise and coddle Potter. Only to teach him.

"Why do you enjoy riding a broomstick?"

"I - sir?"

"You heard me."

"I...well, there's nothing like it, really. It's the only time that I feel - no, nevermind, that's stupid," Harry furrowed his brows again and shook his head before he fixated idly on the hands in his lap.

Snape wanted to shake him out of it, since when had he become so bloody introverted? He'd never had a problem speaking out of turn in his classroom - why the sudden change? Of course, if Severus truly thought about it...it made sense. Snape knew more about Harry now than anyone did, at least in regards to his darkest secrets..."Tell me, Mr. Potter." _There, __cordiality. _

"I feel free. Nothing can touch me when I'm in the air, it's the only thing I'm good at and it comes naturally. I'm not afraid when I'm flying, but it's a rush, too. At any moment I could fall, but I won't, I rarely ever do. Even the idea of falling isn't frightening, it's...it's like a _rush. _No one can take it from me."

"So, freedom, perhaps. Feeling free is an emotion, is it not? It's a thought, an _idea. _Something you crave. And flying can be a memory. I'm sure you have a surplus of flying memories to bore me with."

"You don't like to fly?"

Severus froze, not noticeably to Harry, but enough that he himself noticed it. Had Potter just asked him something about himself?

"I used to."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, perhaps like he was going to ask another question, but Snape merely pushed back from the table and acted as though he hadn't seen Potter begin to say something more.

"It's time to begin, Potter."


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own the character, or the world. That belongs to J.K Rowling!

If you have not re-read Chapter 12 (I re-wrote it, yes!) please do so before you continue, otherwise you will be fairly confused!

The usual warnings apply, and I hope this chapter was slightly more exciting for you guys! It definitely was for me. As for those of you who are curious as to when Snape and Harry will begin their illustrious relationship...let's just say we have a bit of time before then? :P

Happy reading!

* * *

Harry stood as Snape did and took a few paces back - for whatever reason, it seemed to help relax him when he could put more distance between himself and the Potions Master. Then again, it was only natural that it would. The only times Snape ever got close to him were the times when he chose to lash out with either a punishment, a cruel remark, a sneer - the list was virtually endless.

"I will give you a moment to prepare yourself. Concentrate, don't focus on clearing your mind, I believe that is where we went wrong last year. You clearing your mind seems only to bring everything you'd rather I didn't see to the foreground-instead, show me something you want me to see," Snape instructed casually and waited until Harry nodded and signaled that he was ready. Snape watched the boy swallow thickly around what must have been a sizable lump in his throat, "_Legilimens!" _He had given Potter plenty of time.

And clearly, it wasn't enough.

There had been some resistance, Snape had seen that immediately. The first memory he was shown was Harry's first time on a broomstick, and consequently the same incident that had led to him becoming Gryffindor's youngest seeker. There was an immense joy in it, Snape could feel it-but he could also feel its purpose, he could feel the thickness of memories behind it and it was all too easy for him to lunge on the first flicker. The memory he pulled to mind was not one he would have wished to see, it was not one he would have chose to make Potter relive either, but he supposed it might be less painful than the memories that were more fresh in Potter's mind.  


As Sirius Black fell through the veil and Harry started screaming for him, Snape let the memory go, only to realize that Harry looked entirely unfazed.

"Why did you stop? I could have gotten it back-"

"Impossible. Your shield was weak to begin with and I don't believe it's beneficial to pull you through your worst memories-"

"That's not my worst memory. And don't act like you _care_. You _hated _Sirius, you'd relive that moment every chance you got. You didn't get to _see _it, did you? You only heard about it second hand-"

"Silence, Potter, or I'll take points for your insolence."

Harry was quiet then, only because he'd already lost Gryffindor so many points it looked like their chance at the cup this year was entirely lost.

"Now, again. And focus less on hiding the rest of your memories, and more on the memory itself."

Harry nodded reluctantly, he had to admit-it made more sense to him when Snape was actually _teaching _it to him, and not repeatedly attacking his mind without any sort of preparation. He got it now, and he wasn't so good at it, but at least he understood the concept. He couldn't clear his mind, that was impossible, but if he could just _protect _it..."Wait-" Harry started, only after realizing he wasn't concentrating on any memory at all, but was processing things on a level slower than he was sure Snape would have liked._  
_

"The Dark Lord will not wait for you to gather yourself..." But Snape waited all the same, an unpleasant expression on his face, one eyebrow arched coolly, impatiently- "Have you sufficiently-"

Harry nodded, his mind full of flying, full of quidditch matches, and the elation that came with all of it-

"_Legilimens!"_

Harry forced those memories on Snape as hard as he could, he thought of freedom, and kept his mind focused only on that. He didn't think about freedom in regards to breaking away from Privet Drive at the end of every summer, he didn't let thoughts of his Uncle seep into the memories of flying he was trying his hardest to portray. Flying was the only thing on his mind, the only thing _in _his mind apart from Snape.

He managed to keep on his feet though all of it, he didn't feel defeated or weakened once Snape released his mind, perhaps there was a lingering exhaustion, but his success was enough to have him energized enough to declare he wanted to try again.

"Hold a moment, Potter. Too much of one trick won't always work, soon enough I'll be able to work around this, the idea is to have an onslaught of useful thoughts that the Dark Lord won't use against you," Snape explained casually, and Harry saw that he was leaning casually back against his desk with his arms crossed in front of him. Harry mulled this over for a moment, and nodded.

"Professor- I understand why I have to keep Volde-You-Know-Who out of my mind, but how is that going to be enough for me to..._defeat _him?"

"You are only sixteen, Potter, you aren't expected to defeat him so soon, there will be time, there will be training-"

"I faced him when I was eleven, a basilisk when I was twelve. I had to face him when I was fourteen and...and last year, too. At the rate we're going I'll be seeing him again soon. He's not going to wait around, I can feel it, I can tell when he's planning something or...excited about something-"

"I can assure you, Potter, the Dark Lord does not get _excited _about things-"

"You know what I mean."

Snape hesitated a moment before he nodded, slowly, and watched Harry carefully.

"Professor Dumbledore is busy figuring things out, I know-I don't need him to drop everything for me...but I just don't _know _enough. Dumbledore's Army last year was...it was like _child's play. _I know it won't be like that out in the real world and I just-"

"Are you coming to a potential point, Mr. Potter?"

"Wouldyouteachme?"

"Would I, _what_?" Snape repeated and stood.

"I-you're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher now...and you know him...you know what he can do, and instead of just learning Occlumency-"

"Do you think I have the time to set aside extra lessons for your leisure?"

"It's not for my leisure, none of this is for my _leisure_, do you think I would choose this, if I had the choice? I can't fucking _stand _this, people judging me by the scar on my forehead, people praising me for what I've done-I haven't done _anything._ It's all been_ luck_ and far better wizards than I have fallen in his wake, I'm not an extraordinary wizard-" Harry was only just getting started and Snape could see that, he could see Potter falling into a panic and he had to stop it before it sabotaged their efforts thus far.

"On that, we can agree," Snape intoned dryly.

Harry scoffed and turned away, "Forget it then, it was a stupid idea, of course you wouldn't want to help _me, _of all people, not when you look at me and see my father, right? Why would you want to help someone you hate on premise?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and let his composure drop for the brief moment where Potter had turned away from him. On the one hand, he was stretched as thin as ever. Between Dumbledore, Potter, the Dark Lord, and teaching-he didn't have the time to add dueling lessons and teaching the components of vastly complex spells to Potter would only add a more grueling process to his shoulders. On the other hand, Potter was taking this seriously. Potter was virtually embracing the fact that he was no where near ready to defeat the Dark Lord...and he was asking for _help. _He was asking for _something, _and that in itself was a step Snape had not been prepared to see.

Since he'd seen what Potter had...suffered through this summer and no doubt the ones prior to it, as well, Potter had essentially been closed off to the rest of the world. He hadn't seen him at meals, but he had seen his lackeys in a worried frenzy over him. The Headmaster himself had expressed a concern over Potter along with the rest of his teachers. Once exuberant and embracing of his education he now seemed _put-out. _Or so Filius Flitwick, had put it.

Naturally, Snape had been content to brush it off the same way he was always compelled to._ Precious Saint Potter_, getting his special treatment, but it wasn't special treatment, was it? He'd _seen _the cause, and Potter's withdrawal went far deeper than that.

"We will divide our time in Occlumency lessons, after I speak with the Headmaster of your concerns. I doubt he will have an issue with it."

"He doesn't seem to have an issue letting me go into everything _blind,_" Harry mumbled bitterly, but he had turned back to Snape then with a glimmer of something like hope on his face.

"You are still a child, the Headmaster has many reasons to withhold the information that he does. As, I am sure, you have reasons for withholding your own?"

Harry had opened his mouth to protest, he wasn't a child, not anymore, he hadn't been a child in a long time, but Snape's follow up had his lips shut tight. He wasn't going to get into that, not when he'd done so well keeping it _away. _Harry sat back against a desk, mirroring Snape, he wasn't going to have this conversation, but after a long stretch of silence, Snape seemed to have other plans.

"At some point, Potter, you and the Headmaster must have a can't put it off forever. Knowing what I know-I cannot let you return to your Aunt and Uncle's next summer."

_"_You don't know as much as you think you do."

"I know _enough_."

"But you _don't, _besides, I'm going to have to go back. The _blood protection _is far too valuable. You think I haven't tried to stay with Ron and Hermione before? With Sirius-" Harry cleared his throat to cover the break he knew would sneak into his voice if he carried on, "I can handle myself."

It was only one more summer, and only _if_ he made it through this year.

* * *

As Potter left their lesson that night, Severus was suddenly struck with _agreement. _

Harry Potter could handle himself.

But he'd made a promise to the memory of _Lily, _and he saw more of her in Potter than he ever had before. While he still bore that strikingly irritating resemblance to his father, Severus could not, and would not let Harry return to his Aunt and Uncles next summer. There would be no excuse for him if he let Potter's abuse continue now that he _knew_ about it. Lily would have never forgiven him, and he doubted he would ever forgive himself.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **The characters and everything else awesome is J.K Rowling's, I'm just twisting it around a bit.

So, my views jumped like crazy in just a few hours and I'm super pumped about that so here's another update for you all!

Warning for language and very very mild allusions to the abuse Harry suffered, you know, the usual.

The reviews I've been getting are so great and super helpful, keep them coming! And let me know what you think/or any ideas and suggestions you have!

Happy reading!

* * *

Harry Potter was _exhausted._

Everyone could see it.

But Severus was the only one who truly understood _why._

He wouldn't say he was worried about it, Potter could take more than he had ever given the boy credit for. The past fortnight had proved that. They had made some progress with Occlumency. Naturally, some was a term Severus used rarely in regards to the boy, and it had given the boy some sort of hope when Harry had asked him the night before if he was improving, and Severus had answered with: _"You've made some progress," _Harry's face had lit up substantially.

It was unsettling for him to see such a meager compliment pull the need from Harry to prove himself further.

He had seen snippets of the boys home life, ones that delved into deeper and darker parts than he had ever truly imagined - Severus's lacking version of praise was the closest thing Harry had ever gotten to praise _before. _

He had been so used to his preconceived notions of the name _Potter, _that he hadn't had the capacity to see the parts of Lily that lay behind them. The fact that he was Albus's _favorite, _and the Wizarding World's _Golden Boy _had been no help to Harry's case. He had taken to thinking of him as _Harry_ privately - Albus, in all his archetypal, _Wise Old Man _glory had suggested it. He hadn't been planning on actually trying it - and he certainly wasn't going to call Harry, _Harry _to his face - but thinking of Potter as _Harry _had helped Serverus form the separation in his head. It helped him to answer his questions without a _sneer _and it seemed to help Harry feel more comfortable around him, too. Severus found he often couldn't stop rolling the idea of using it aloud over his tongue, he was certainly thinking on it enough.

Furthermore, Severus had been so sure that Harry had been spoiled relentlessly by his relatives, not to mention doted on by every bloody Professor in the school, the rest of the Wizarding World, and his unguided brigand of followers, _so certain _that Harry would be used to his compliment-especially _his _compliment, because a Snape compliment was hardly giving at all- but he _hadn't _been used to it. It had lit something like purpose under him again, and he'd gone into the lesson that night with a drive he had never known anyone to have.

Apart from the Dark Lord.

Severus had been struck with the realization the night that Harry had asked him for his help. Severus had essentially agreed to train him anything that would make him a formidable opponent, or as close as he could get, with the condition that he receive the Headmaster's permission, and it had been something that the Headmaster had said to him that made him realize the desperation in Harry's efforts. The dark Lord was beginning to get desperate too.

He felt it through his mark each time the Dark Lord summoned him and each time his anger when he wasn't able to get away, or would use that excuse (within reason). He felt it in the room as the Dark Lord sat back coolly at the head of the table and watched his _most loyal _pay homage to him, to all his power, all the glory he would reap-

-And he could feel it when the Dark Lord turned his wand on one of them because he couldn't stand the _lying_. The Dark Lord was growing impatient, desperate, he wanted an edge, he wanted his immortality untouched by the meddling old man and his arch rival. _A mere boy that had thwarted him more times than he should have been able to. _

The Dark Lord was desperate to kill Harry Potter, to rid the world of Albus Dumbledore - and he no step closer with the rate Draco was going on the latter, and as Severus himself had a hand in keeping Harry alive, his desperation was growing thick and tangible.

It was another reason the exhaustion in Harry was so obvious. The Dark Lord had been restless, and more than once during his nightly probings of Harry's mind, Severus had stumbled briefly through nightmares and memories of Weasley watching him from his own four poster as he jumped out of bed and threw open a window for fresh air before he let himself be drawn in too deeply to the Dark Lord's mind.

Apparently the boy had cast a silencing charm, but Weasley had seen him thrashing anyway. _Clever way to hide, _Severus had had to admit to himself when he had addressed it with Harry, but there were easier ways to deal with night terrors.

Severus had once had his fair share of those. Dreamless Sleep had taken care of that for good a long time ago. He had offered to supply Harry with a night of Dreamless Sleep to see if it might help, but Harry had been intent on clearing his mind and blocking things out when he was at his most vulnerable, and Severus was impressed, but not surprised of the selflessness.

_Ever the martyr, Mr. Potter,_ he had said, but instead of growing defensive, Harry had _laughed_, and Severus had never heard a better sound before. It had reached his core, it was sharp and throaty, all at once - it reminded him of Lily in different octaves, but it was more refreshing after having watched the hollow, mirthless laughter Harry had forced these past two weeks at lunch and the occasional breakfast if he had been able to rouse himself from sleep (he had been taking most of his dinner's in Severus's office before they moved their lessons to the Defense classroom where no one would be like to search them out after dinner was finished.

When Harry lingered through his goodbyes with Weasley and Granger just outside the door, Severus found himself lingering near the door as well to catch their words, all whilst looking incredibly enraptured (and not in a pleasant way) by a length of parchment on the nearest desk to him - Longbottom's Essay would suffice as a good cover should it be necessary.

" -git's been grinding you to the grain, Harry, and the team's been worried our first match is going to be shit because we haven't had a decent practice yet with you. You're supposed to be our captain, and you've hardly had time for the team. They're all worried we'll need a back-up seeker in case you pass out on your bloody broom! Do you hear me? Merlin, are you even listening to me, Harry? Blimey, 'Mione, it's like talking to a fucking wall, innit? He's doesn't care about _anything _- something's happened to him, and I swear if I find out it's that greasy git - "

"Ron!" Miss Granger interjected, and Snape listened carefully - the girl, at least, was smart enough to keep her voice down, "His hair isn't greasy anymore now that he's not bent over cauldron's all day-"

"That's really not the point, Hermione-"

"Well, you don't have to be so rude, isn't it _obvious_ what's really going on?"

_Oh, _obvious_, was it?_

The silence was enough to egg her on, and Snape had yet to hear a word from Harry, "Professor Snape is clearly helping Harry with Occlumency again, this isn't _detention_ anymore, is it, Harry?" The way she questioned left no room for any answer but the one that Harry wordlessly must have given her, "I thought so."

"Who cares if he's helping Harry with Occlumency - Harry hasn't slept in days, and we're going to be crushed in the first match because of it!"

"_Ronald!_"

"Whatever, I'm going to dinner. Are you coming, Hermione?"

"In a minute."

There was a beat of silence.

"Fine."

Severus stepped closer, without the loudmouthed redhead around, it seemed Harry and Granger were easily able to keep their voices quiet and level without the influence of Weasley's ranting.

"You know he's worried about you, Harry, don't you? He's just using quidditch as an excuse-"

"And he really wants to win."

"Well, yes, I expect he would, but that's not the point, Harry. Maybe you could just...talk to Professor Snape about one night off so you can get some real sleep. Ron's told me about the nightmares. He said they're happening more than ever, I-I can start brewing you Dreamless sleep again-"

"I've told you, Hermione, it doesn't work anymore- but thanks. I'll see if I can get a night off."

There was another pause in which Severus imagined the look on Granger's face, something sad and laced with concern, but naively convinced by Harry's hollow words.

"Promise? We just miss you, Harry, I don't know what's going on with you anymore."

"I promise. I'm just exhausted, you know? I've been making some real progress with Occlumency, it's draining but it'll be worth it in the end. I've got to do this-"

"You don't have to do it all _alone_, though, Harry," Hermione insisted quietly, and just after that, she was gone, Harry was re-entering the classroom, and Severus was opening his office door after having glided quickly to the front of the classroom and up the steps that led to a heavy oak door, guarded by a password that very few people had the pleasure of knowing.

Harry walked slowly into Professor Snape's office, he was exhausted, truly. He'd fallen asleep throughout class all day, he'd missed an assignment in Transfiguration as well as Charms.

Was it really Saturday again, so soon?

The lack of sleep had him losing track of time, his nights were filled less with visions of Voldemort, as he had been able to lead Snape to believe, and more filled with his _Uncle,_ which he had managed to hide with seemingly successful. If Snape knew that Harry was tampering with his memories to protect his secrets, he gave no notion of it and that led Harry to believe his progress had markedly increased.

He and Snape had tampered with the idea of implanting memories, the way the Dark Lord had done to lure him out of the castle last year (they broached nowhere near the subject of Sirius, and both of them were incredibly content with that.) Snape hadn't known he was going to try it, Harry had played it off as another one of his "_deeply" _analytic thoughts (as Snape so often commented with a sarcasm that was beginning to grown on him), and the need to be informed about everything so he didn't fuck up anything. The next night, however, Harry had tried it to modify the course of his nightmares so that Snape wouldn't see what was truly troubling him at night.

It was easier to blame it on Voldemort when his scar was hurting just as much as he knew Snape's Dark Mark was, it was the nightmares that were becoming unbearable.

As they ate, Harry was comfortable to sit in the silence that stretched between them. The portraits in the background kept up a very murmured chatter that distracted them from the tiny tings and tangs of their cutlery, or rather, Snape's cutlery, since Harry had hardly touched his food. He was comfortable because he kept nodding off, and the few seconds of sleep were so welcome he embraced each lurch of his head until Snape pulled him out of it, once and for all.

"If you are too tired to eat, Potter, you are too tired to train."

"I'm not-"

"You nearly made a pillow of your mashed potatoes just a moment ago. I believe we can bypass our lessons tonight-"

"I _knew _it! I knew you were listening, I could _feel _it - your presence was so bloody obvious and I just ignored it-I don't need to be coddled!"

"I assure you, Potter, I have no intentions to _coddle _you. Your sidekicks seem to believe you require _sleep, _and I believe I understand how they could tell."

Harry snorted and slumped back in his chair, "Ron just doesn't want me to fuck up out first match - if I choke and lose it to Slytherin, no offense, but he'll kill me, they all will -"

"You do realize that the Gryffindor quidditch team, like all quidditch teams, is made up of _seven _players, and not just yourself?" It was so like him to believe he had to _carry _them. Harry sighed and shook his head, like Snape just didn't get it, and Snape didn't think he did either.

"You have been lying to me. I was led to believe your nightmares were infrequent, we discussed them, Potter. You denied Dreamless sleep because you swore you wanted to work on your Occlumency and the nightmares are _more than ever_?" Harry could see Snape had no qualms about eavesdropping on his conversation, so he shrank back dejectedly into his chair. "Do you realize how irresponsible that is? The more nightmares you have, the more susceptible you are-_are you even listening to me__, boy?"_

_Boy._

The word hissed from Snape's lips was so familiar and so _conditioned _into him that Harry flinched and brought his attention firmly back to Snape though his emotional distance was palpable between them.

"Don't call me that," they tumbled so quickly and quietly from Harry's lips that Snape was almost sure he'd imagined them.

"Don't call you what you are? If you don't want to be called _boy _you should try and act less like one! Responsibility and maturity, discipline and effort are going to be key to in your training, and you have a distinct disregard for _both_ that will get you killed much like your irresponsible Godfather!"

"Don't say a word against Sirius-don't talk about him, you don't have a right-"

"_I _don't have a right? _I _who alerted the Order, who told Sirius to _stay behind _on Dumbledore's _very _orders? I have as much right as anyone, he disobeyed Dumbledore, he wouldn't listen to _me _because of who _I _am, and I'm the one with the grudge? He got himself killed because he lacked all the things you are mutilating because you'd rather take your pain and suffer it in silence? You have _nightmares, _Potter, and there is nothing wrong with the minimal use of an aid to keep you from falling off of the deep end!"

Harry's rage had stopped short as soon as Snape had begun to goad him about his _pain. _It was an observation that hit too close to home, and Harry would rather swallow his tongue than give himself away.

"You will eat, we will practice Occlumency, and you will take a vial of Dreamless sleep before you leave. There will be no spellwork tonight."

Leave it to Snape to take the part he _enjoyed _out of it, no? Harry resisted the urge to insist that the Dreamless Sleep wouldn't work, a part of him was hopeful that it would, that maybe Hermione's attempt at it last year hadn't been strong enough, perhaps Snape could brew him something better-the man must have some sort of nightmares after meetings with Voldemort...

"Eat, Potter."

"Yes, Professor."


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **The characters are not mine, and neither is their world-you can thank J.K Rowling for that amazingness!

So, I'm snowed in today, gotta love the winter, right? I hope you enjoy this chapter, things are starting to pick up a bit more now, no? Let me know what you think, what you are expecting will come, and any ideas you might have. I really love hearing from you all.

Usual warnings apply to this chapter. (Language, abuse, etc.)

Happy reading!

* * *

_Harry was pinned under Vernon, he was writhing, struggling to get away and he couldn't, something was closing around his throat, he couldn't breathe-_

"-arry, _Harry!_"

He came to on his hands and knees in the Defense classroom, panting as he tried desperately to catch his lost breath. It had been one of his nightmares, but all the nightmares were memories in and of themselves. Snape was hovering near him but seemed hesitant to get closer, and for that Harry was grateful. He couldn't be touched right now-

"You are too exhausted for this."

Snape didn't leave any room there for him to question it, and instead conjured a chair for Harry to sit in.

"Next time, if you're unable to put forth a substantial effort, tell me rather than waste my time-"

"Can I have a _minute, _Professor, to just be a fucking human?"

Snape raised his eyebrow coolly at Harry's language but made no comment on it, "If you must, Potter."

"Potter, again? Not Harry?" There was a smirk on Harry's face, but Snape didn't address it, he too conjured himself a chair and sat. Harry had gotten used to seeing Snape on this level, but there was still a degree of strangeness that came with seeing the man seated. He was far more used to the threatening, standing poses Snape had always displayed before, save for meals. During Potions as well as Defense class, Snape had always been on his feet, engaged with the students work (or rather, tormenting them with it).

"I have a few questions I would like to ask you, Potter, while you attempt to be '_human',_" Snape made eye contact with him, and Harry found he could not look away from those piercing black eyes. They weren't angry, as they often always were, instead, they were calm. Calming, almost, "Your conversation with Miss Granger before - you said you could _sense _my magic, that I was close enough to be listening?"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief before nodding, he had thought he was going to get something more _difficult_ to deal with.

Snape made no comment but continued, "You also told Miss Granger that Dreamless Sleep doesn't work on you _anymore_? Aside from the fact that brewing Dreamless Sleep without supervision is forbidden, I find it hard to believe that you had your dosage correct-"

"We didn't. Hermione looked up everything she needed, she'd been looking into it for ages...it just didn't work after a while," Harry mumbled with a shrug. He'd felt bad about that, all the work Hermione had put into trying to help him, and it had only kept the dream at bay for a few weeks.

"After a _while?_"

"Well, yeah, a few weeks-"

"_Insolent child_!" Snape hissed and jumped up so quickly from his chair that Harry did the same and moved around the backside of it to keep his distance from the suddenly enraged potions master, "You foolhardy, overzealous _Gryffindors__!__" _Snape ran a hand over his jaw and turned his back on Harry as if he were trying to keep his distance from Harry as well, "Dreamless Sleep is not something you use liberally! Certainly not _nightly_! Any potions book would have stated that at the onset, tell me how Miss Granger forgot to relay you _that-_"

"Well, she didn't forget...I just thought...the dreams were getting so horrible-"

"You ineptitude is exceedingly astounding, Potter," Snape hissed and gave a shake of his head that was followed up by the turn of his whole body-Snape was facing Harry again, "You could have done yourself _serious _damage, in even the worst cases, Dreamless Sleep is only to be administered a maximum of three times a week, every _other _week. It's lingering properties are meant to build your subconscious while you sleep and the following week will adhere to the construction your mind is under- _you were taking it nightly for weeks_?" Harry gave his shoulders a non-committal shrug, "Of course it doesn't work anymore, you lackwit-"

"I'm _sorry_. I didn't _know, _I just wanted the dreams to stop, Professor, surely _you _understand, you have to deal with Vol-_You-Know-Who_ regularly! That doesn't give you malicious nightmares? That doesn't make you want to drink an entire cauldron full of Dreamless Sleep?" Harry finished expectantly, though he couldn't truly expect Professor Snape to divulge his own nightmares.

"Tell me you didn't-"

"No, I _didn't-_ I'm not that much of a _lackwit_,_" _and here, Snape muttered something Harry didn't quite catch, but was sure he could guess what it was, "I sure as hell wanted to, though, even _you _can understand that."

"Even _I_?_" _Snape mocked curiosity, but he knew what Harry was getting at.

"You might as well be a solid block of ice, the amount of emotion you show-"

"Reading my emotions, Potter?"

"_No-"_

"Enough. You will not take Dreamless Sleep from anyone but myself, and you will take it _appropriately _under my watch," Snape instructed swiftly, and his arms were crossed over his chest as Potter swayed almost imperceptibly-except Snape caught the movement easily and flicked his wand so that Potter's chair would move to seat him of its own accord, "During your conversation-"

"You _seriously _need a lesson on privacy-"

"Need I remind you-"

Harry knew where this would go, if he let Snape finish that sentence. The _Pensieve_, how could he forget? Snape had all but torn him to pieces and sent him from the room in a matchbox. "_No, _there's no need, I remember very well and I'm still sorry-"

Snape sneered at that but held his tongue, "During your conversation," he repeated pointedly, as if daring Harry to interrupt again (he didn't), "-you told Miss Granger you were making _a lot _of progress with Occlumency, but I have only seen a little. Why would you lie?"

Harry hesitated a beat, if he told Snape the truth, he would know the reality of his nightmares, one had slipped through tonight, but that was only because he was nearly dead on his feet from exhaustion, "I-"

"You have lied to _me_, Potter," Harry's mouth snapped shut as Snape intervened, "You have not told your friends the true nature of our meetings, essentially, you've lied to them as well. Are you ever honest with anyone?"

It wasn't a question he knew how to answer. It wasn't a question he wanted to answer, somewhere deep down, he knew the truth. He wasn't honest, he wasn't honest with anyone, with himself-

"That's a severely lonely place to put yourself, Potter, I would advise against it. Confide in your sidekicks, they'll get off your back if you _include _them," Snape told Harry, not _gently, _but there was a lack of maliciousness in his tone. It wasn't cold, but _cool._ Not quite ice..."The memories you are covering up won't improve your Occlumency. It shows discipline, yes, but it does not help you to focus on masking your memories when you should be focusing on getting _rid _of them."

Harry snorted and shook his head, "So you just want me to let you into _everything, _then? I've finally learned how to protect something in my head, and you want to take it?"

"No, Potter, trust me. I don't want to take any of it, but you won't make decent progress unless you stop splitting your mind meaninglessly - I am impartial to the things I see in your head, this is not my training, it's yours."

Harry pursed his lips and said nothing, he just simply turned his head to the side so that he wouldn't have to look at Snape standing in front of him anymore.

"You may go if you are finished sulking."

Harry frowned then and turned his gaze back on Snape, "Did you mean it, sir, when you said I could tell Ron and Hermione?"

Snape sighed, "I would not have said it if I didn't," he offered up listlessly and waved a hand to the door, "Be _gone_, Potter."

"But, sir, the potion-"

"I have changed my mind for tonight. Tomorrow I want fresh memories for you to practice with, and I want the truth of them, too."

Harry stood and turned to the door then, but Snape wasn't finished, "I don't care what nightmares plague you tonight, Harry, you need to deal with them so you can learn how to _erase them_." And there was something in the way Snape said it-it didn't matter that he'd used his name. It didn't matter that he hadn't snarled the words at him, careless as to how they would fall, what matter is that Snape was looking at him in a way that Harry couldn't figure out, only the fact that it was one he felt he could _trust. _

_Erase them_. Snape hadn't sounded like he was just referring to Harry's nightmares then, he was referring to _all _of it. All the things that Harry had suffered, because he _did, _in some way, _realize _that he had _suffered_. It was far too easy for him to fall into a depression when he was at Privet Drive, it was all too easy for him to believe all the slurring Vernon did when he was drunk and laid into Harry, _beat _him like he was trying to beat the magic out of him. But at Hogwarts he was reminded of his purpose. That he _had _purpose, he had people who cared about him. People who must have cared about him, because most of them had after they thought Voldemort had already been killed.

They _had _to care about him for more than what his life was cut out to be.

"Potter? I've seen enough of you, now _go-"_

"Thank you, Professor."

There was a beat of silence before Snape nodded his acknowledgement and closed the door behind his student with a flick of his wand.

"That looked like progress, Severus."

Severus turned slowly, he had felt the change in the room only moments ago, so he was not compelled to ask how much the Headmaster had heard. Most likely he had heard Potter's ever-so-_touching _display of gratitude. Getting a thanks from Potter was about as tedious as making a bet with Minerva over the very same match Potter's red-headed lackey was concerned about.

_Ungrateful, tactless swine...at least Granger isn't entirely blind. I'll never gather how __Weasley hasn't managed to get himself picked off, what with the incomprehensible thickness of his skull-_

Had Severus not realized that he was devoting even one second more of his time thinking thoughts that had a lingering hint of Potter in them, he would have carried on about the ridiculousness that Weasley had displayed before, how Harry was lucky to have one friend that wasn't entirely _daft_, if however much a know-it-all she was.

"Progress, Albus? Surely, even the Chosen One is capable of uttering _thanks_?"_  
_

"Don't spoil it, Severus, I was enjoying the thought of you and Harry setting aside your _differences_. Give an old man what he wants," Severus could feel his eyes flash then, he knew what Albus was doing, trying to guilt him into disarming just enough to let him in-

"If you have come to remind me of my debt to _you_-"

"Don't be so callous, Severus, I merely came to ask how training was going."

"We're to meet tomorrow night, ask me then."

"I had wished to catch a few moments of your session."

Severus raised his eyebrows, there it was, then, the truth. Or part of it. Albus never revealed more than was necessary. He was calculating like that, but he did it for a reason, for the _greater good, _for a purpose better than any of them could imagine now because it was so far off. It was why Severus trusted him so completely.

That, and the fact that this man had _saved him._

Albus always insisted he had only given Severus the chance to save himself, to save his soul from the corruption he was dragging it through. The moments those conversations came into play were rare, if they ever were, but the memories of them were enough to remind him that he owed it to Dumbledore _not _to hex him when he was being bloody infuriating.

"Was that so hard, Albus?"

Headmaster Dumbledore let out a chuckle and shook his head, his eyes twinkled over his half-moon spectacles, the silver stars on his deep plum robes seemed to twinkle with them.

"For Merlin's sake, Severus, you're a _spy, _don't make your overcompensation so obvious."

"You are _infuriating-_"

"It's not a crime to grow fond of the boy."

"I am most certainly _not _growing fond of Harry."

"Ah," _Harry, _was it? Snape cursed the old man internally, though he was sure Dumbledore _knew_ just what he was thinking, "I will see you tomorrow evening, Severus, give Harry the night off, Minerva's almost got Poppy on your case."

With that, the Headmaster turned and left, a swish of simple purple and he disappeared through a back door, the same one Severus knew he had come, though he rarely used it.

Severus let out a very frustrated huff.

The last thing he needed was Poppy on his case, _again_.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters or the world they are in, that belongs to J.K Rowling!

Usual warnings for this chapter (in case you've forgotten: mentions/mild descriptions of abuse, coarse language, etc.)

Happy reading!

* * *

Harry had taken Snape's advice the same night that the man had given it to him, and, since then, things with Ron and Hermione had vastly improved, and these changes were overnight.

It hadn't happened immediately, there had been a lot of questions, an endless amount of apologizing on Harry's end, understanding and warmth had come from Hermione while Ron had been slightly colder. Harry hadn't blamed him for that. He had given details to Ron and Hermione that they had known were missing, but hadn't had a clue as to how to broach the subject with him when he was so quick to fly off the handle and withdraw himself even further. He hadn't divulged them all of what had happened to him that summer, just that it had been worse than most and Dumbledore had sent Snape to pick him up so he could explain their continuation of Occlumency for the coming year before he had been dropped off at the Weasley's.

He left out the bit about having _asked _for Snape's help, but he had told them both about the more _advanced _magic he had been practicing with Snape as well. It wasn't that he didn't trust them to know that he had asked for help, but he wanted them to think he had it under control himself, and that Snape was only going to help practice with him. He was supposed to be the _Chosen One_, if he was going to be seen in that light, he would push for it. He would fake the confidence, he would pretend to know what he was doing. He would lie, yet again, to his closest friends by far.

"More _advanced _magic, like...Dark Magic, or something?" Ron had wondered warily, like the thought of Dark Magic, Snape, and his best mate in the same general idea was too much to handle, and not in a way that could possibly end _well__. _Harry had, admittedly, been warmed by the concern, though a part of him was wondering if Ron was just terrified of _him_, he saw the aftermath of Harry's nightmares, he had heard that day in St. Mungo's on the Extendable Ears about Harry having witnessed the attack of his father _through _the eyes of Nagini. Was he beginning to think Harry would crack under the pressure?

Hermione had snapped him out of his negative reverie, and he immediate berated himself for tainting what had been a really decent moment.

_"_Oh, of course Professor Snape won't be teaching Harry _Dark_ Magic, Ron! Dumbledore would never allow it, and I don't think Harry would stand for it either, he wouldn't want to sink to Voldemort's level-" as usual, Ron gave a sort of shudder at the mention of Voldemort, to which Harry resisted the urge to comment. He'd gotten used to saying _You-Know-Who _around Snape when he managed to catch himself, and a part of him was beginning to more deeply understand why Professor Snape couldn't stand to hear the name, and why Ron still couldn't bear to say it, "-would you, Harry?"

"Hermione's got the right of it," and Harry had gone into an explanation then, briefly described the offensive spells that Severus had been teaching him, as well as far more powerful and effective defensive magic, he was practicing his wordless magic, they had gone over the basics and drilled them so deeply into his mind that he knew which spells would suit _all _situations. He had found himself running through the list of spells in his head during other classes, exploring different situations, and situations he'd already been in where he could have been more prepared with the spells he so readily had on hand now.

Hermione had been right in saying that Ron had just been worried about him, he had heard it in Ron's voice during his apology, and Harry had accepted his apology as easily as telling him that he had nothing to apologize for. He was sick of letting everyone wear his burdens. He had been neglecting quidditch, he had been neglecting his friends- Luna and Neville had apparently told Ginny that the rest of Dumbledore's Army still kept their coins on them and were waiting for another lesson.

He was vaguely reminded of Snape's jab about his _mislead brigand of misfits_, and promised himself he'd try and make time for another D.A meeting.

Professor Snape had given him Friday night off in order to get some of his schoolwork done and catch up on sleep. He would have two days of dreams to work on shielding from Snape, and so he had focused himself more on practicing his Occlumency before bed. It worked during the first few hours of his sleep, not that he could tell the difference while he was sleeping- but Ron had often woken up to see Harry thrashing about. He didn't want to show Snape his nightmares, not when he was doing well to _shove aside _memories of Vernon amongst the midst of everything else he was managing.

Speaking of managing, Harry had been managing his homework for the week all afternoon. His last class had been a study period, so he'd bid goodbye to Ron and Hermione after lunch, and lost himself in the library.

He had been halfway through his essay for Professor Slughorn (he'd already done his charms essay, thanks to Hermione's notes, and practiced minor transfigurations) when he realized that he had told Ron and Hermione he would meet them for dinner nearly half an hour ago.

_Fuck_.

The last thing he needed was them on his case for distancing himself so soon after having let them in. That would entirely defeat having told them in the first place, he didn't want to feel suffocated by everything, he wanted to feel _balanced. _He wrapped up his last sentence, rolled up his essay, and quickly shoved the rest of his things into his bag before he hurried to the Great Hall.

Ron and Hermione were sitting in their usual spot, heads bent low, save for the occasional glance towards the door to see if he was about to walk through it. When he finally did, it was Hermione that had seen first, and if he knew Hermione as well as he thought he did, she had definitely stood on Ron's foot to get him to look inconspicuously.

When he sat down, neither of them let on if they were angry that he was late, or that he had been late at all.

"Did you get your work done?" Hermione asked gently. Harry met her eyes cautiously, as if he were suspicious of her words. The relief was immediate as soon as she cracked a smile and Ron let out a snort and rolled his eyes:

"'Coure 'e di'nt 'Mione," Ron started grossly around a mouthful of food and Hermione raised an eyebrow at him like she was ready to scold him for it and he swallowed before continuing, "He was probably just trying to get some peace and quiet from you badgering about all the work he's got to get done-"

"I'm just trying to-"

"I got most of it done, actually. I lost track of time, that's why I was late-"

Harry found himself distracted as Snape stood at the Staff table, exchanged a long look with the Headmaster, and went out a back a door near his seat on the dais.

"It's no problem, Harry, we understand, we aren't going to jump down your throat so much-" Ron started in quickly, and Hermione nodded in agreement. They seemed so intent on keeping him close, like they were accidentally worried about pushing him too much and pushing him away once and for all. He wanted to laugh, and he would have, if it wasn't so fucking painful to realize that he'd made them this worried about losing him. He needed to reassure them he wasn't going anywhere, not yet.

He still had a job to do, and it was only fueled by the realization that he had people like Ron and Hermione to fulfill the Prophecy for.

Harry piled a decent meal onto his plate, his dinner's with Snape had finally started to improve his appetite, it wasn't all that hard to eat when Snape was threatening him if he tried otherwise. Hogwarts had always gotten him back to himself again, this time, he would just have to work for it a little. And he was, working for it, the Occlumency was helping, strangely enough, and ever since Snape had reminded him that Occlumency was also useful against the Imperius curse, Harry had been devoted to it as with everything else.

They kept up idle chatter as they ate, and Harry found himself picking through his food more than he was actually eating it. He didn't mean to, but he just wasn't hungry-and he couldn't help but feel like something was off.

"Did you want to go flying for a bit after dinner, mate?" Ron wondered curiously, suddenly, and Harry was pulled out of his own thoughts to meet Ron's eyes for the briefest moment before he forced himself to look away. He felt unsettled, he was truly unsettled now. It wasn't anything to do with what Ron had said, this was something that felt like it was a part of him- there was dread in the pit of his stomach and he could barely nod his assent to Ron's invitation. _Think of quidditch, _he told himself, _think of freedom_...It was strange for him to feel this coming on, if he could just block it out as he and Snape had been working on...

"I'd kill to play a round of wizards chess, too, I'm feeling a bit rusty-" Harry had started, a pitiful attempt at trying to distract himself from the unease in the back of his mind but his efforts were beyond repair as a sharp stab of pain across his forehead unfocused him. The pain was one that seemed to stretch and grow until it seared through the rest of him without any sense of stopping. He reached for it with one hand to try and stave off the burn but it was a futile attempt, he let out a hiss of pain.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione cut in quickly, her concern overwhelming, but kind.

"Your scar-" Ron started and glanced warily at where Harry was massaging the lightning bolt on his forehead.

"I need to-" He didn't have the chance to finish before he bolted to his feet, left his bag behind, and hurried quickly out of the Great Hall.

He didn't know where his feet were taking him, only that Professor Snape had left dinner shortly before Harry had himself, and all Harry could think was that Snape had gone back to his office, and perhaps he was taking his tea there before doing his grading or, at least, he had tried to think that this was the case and not that Snape had been _summoned_. Not for this. If it was a good summons, it only meant something horrible had happened, and if it was a bad summons, Snape would face the consequences of that in some way, as Harry had seen before and he unconsciously needed to _know._

As he burst unceremoniously into Snape's office, Harry was pained to see that he wasn't there, and a moment of desperation shook through him as his scar seared again and he had to reach for the corner of Snape's desk to steady himself. _Breathe._

Snape could handle himself, Harry was more than well aware of that, but it wasn't enough to settle the panic that had begun to shake him to the core.

"_Mr. Potter_?" Harry spun quickly at the sound of Snape's voice behind him, so quickly, in fact, that he nearly lost his balance and had only just managed to steady himself before pain was ripping through his scar again and he let out a protest of pain, "What are you-?"

"You...you're still here? I-I think h-he's angry, or..._happy, _I can't tell-_fuck-_"

"Focus, Harry. Calm down, _breathe. Center your mind,_" Snape instructed smoothly, calmly as he shut his office door behind him and conjured a chair just in time for Harry to drop into it and brace both his hands on his knees as he tried to think through the pain.

Snape had helped him restore some sort of normalcy with his friends, he did not think Snape would lead him astray here, either. There was a silky quality to Snape's voice then, he wasn't trying to intimidate him, or verbally maim him. He was genuinely trying to _soothe_ him, and that was strange in itself.

"I can't, he's too-_ah-_" Harry closed his eyes then and fought the urge to cry out against the pain, when he looked up at Snape again, he was rummaging through a drawer in his desk and Harry found that he suddenly couldn't hear what Snape was saying to him as he stepped closer and held a vial out for him. He reached for it, he was sure that Snape meant for him to drink it, but when he reached for the vial it seemed to multiply in front of him and he wasn't sure which one to grab.

As he lost consciousness officially, Harry was sure he felt the vague impression of lithe arms encircling him so that he wouldn't fall.

* * *

When Harry came around, he realized that Snape had just let him slump back in the chair-it musn't have been long, because Snape hadn't moved all that far from where Harry had last seen him, right? He vaguely remembered arms around him, but chose not to say anything as Snape finally held the vial to him again and he was able to grab it and drink it without a second thought.

"That will ward off the headache."

Now that the pain in his scar was over, Harry did realize the only pain left was the dull throbbing behind his eye and at the back of his skull (only getting worse), but the potion had immensely relieved that stress.

"Now, Potter, please explain to me what was so important that you felt the need to interrupt my night off? You do remember my giving you _the night off, _do you not?"

Harry pursed his lips and nodded, but felt too embarrassed to say much of anything. He had just _fainted _in front of Snape. He had just gotten caught running to Snape's office by _Snape _because..._what_? He was strangely comforted by Snape's sarcasm, the way that he always kept Harry on his guard and yet disarmed him all at once, the way that he made him feel _utterly_ normal as opposed to the ridiculous notion of perfection and notoriety he was supposed to live up to. But it wasn't only that.

It was the fact that, for a moment, the bitterness that tainted his every thought had had him truly _worried_ that Snape was going to be summoned, that he was going to answer the summons and have to face whatever it was that Voldemort was working on or planning. He had, essentially, been _worried _about Severus Snape._  
_

_Worried _about _Snape_?

Ron would have rolled over and died if he'd known.

"I'm waiting," Snape said finally and his arms were crossed over his chest, he was staring down at Harry, but for the moment, he didn't feel like any less of a person on the receiving end of Snape's sneer.

"You left the Great Hall in such a hurry, and then my scar started to-I thought he was _summoning _you and I had to check that you were-but you're still here-"

"In the flesh," Snape enunciated firmly, as if to prove it to him through the thoroughness of his speech, "However, had I not been here, what would you have done? Summoned a crew to go after me? Potter, this is my _job_, it's what I do for the Order. It's not your duty to decide otherwise. Whatever your intentions were tonight, they were foolish-and you are lucky that I had not excused myself, perhaps, to firecall a colleague. What would your great plan be had you burst in here on say, Lucius Malfoy and I?" Harry shrugged his shoulders and found himself frowning before he looked away.

"I wasn't thinking-"

"No, you weren't thinking, if you had been thinking, perhaps you could have avoiding _fainting_? You must always think, Potter, always be ready-"

"This was different, something's happened. I could feel it _before _and I tried to stop it, but I couldn't get a grip on it-"

"You said you couldn't tell if he was angry or happy? I assure you, happiness is not an emotion the Dark Lord feels _loosely." _Harry had to laugh at that, he ignored Snape's inquiring stare and shook his head before he pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, "Have you been sleeping?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders, like that would qualify as an answer.

"No, then?" Harry nodded slowly.

"I sleep alright the first few hours, but Ron says by the end of the night I'm always thrashing about, it's like...the deeper I fall the sleep the harder it is to block everything out."

Snape snorted and rolled his eyes, "Of course it is," he pursed his lips, "If the Dark Lord does learn the connection between your minds is still open, he might use it now to manipulate your...dreams. He might use them against you in ways you can scarcely imagine-" something in Snape's voice told Harry that Snape was one of the few people that _could _imagine it. Harry looked away from Snape's piercing gaze-if Voldemort ever saw what he dreamt about...Harry put his face in his hands and rested his elbows on his knees.

"I'm no match for him. You've said it yourself. I'm nothing special, I'm no where near the wizard you and Dumbledore are...this _can't _be up to me. I'm _nothing _compared to him. All he did was kill my parents and suddenly it's up to _me. _What if he had chosen _Neville? _Would it be up to him, then? Would the Prophecy concern _him? _Why did he pick _my _family? Why did he pick them? My mother and father died for me-my mother _begged _for my life, and he tried to spare her-I _heard _it...if she'd just let him kill me she would be-"

"Don't you _dare _dishonor your mother like that. As if Lily Evans would have stood aside and offered up her only child-" Snape hissed scathingly and turned his back on Harry then, "She gave her life for you, she protected you, and you will repay her for that, Potter, or so help me-"

"I just meant that she should have saved herself. He would have _spared _her. He gave her a warning-she would be _alive _right now, she would have _deserved _her life-" He couldn't stop, he couldn't stop the words from spilling out of him now that he'd opened _that _flood gate. He was usually so accomplished at remaining tight-lipped, but he couldn't, for the life of him, _stop. _"-her sacrifice is _wasted _on me, and don't you for a second try to tell me otherwise, I know you've thought it, I know you've told Dumbledore a million times that everything is _doomed _because I'm more of an arrogant _toe-rag _than my father was-"

"Potter."

"-I'm more like him than I am like her, but I'm not even a quarter of the wizard that he was-"

"Potter."

"You _hated _him, you _hate _me for it-"

"_Harry_!"

He opened his mouth to speak again, but Snape flicked his wand and silenced him easily, and well before Harry had the chance to try and block it.

"You are not your father. Nor your mother," It took Snape a few moments to get the words out, but once he managed it, Harry was almost sure he would somehow retract them with his next, "I...must admit, I have tried my hardest to see you for what you are, and I have been forever blinded by the...impressions your father left behind. Your mother was a kind, extraordinary witch-and I perhaps believe that there is more of her in you than I was willing to see before."

Harry hadn't realized his jaw had dropped open when Snape snapped at him to close it before he let in flies.

"Don't let it get to your head, that, I'm afraid, is a quality you _did _inherit from your father," Snape muttered, and instead of being insulted, Harry laughed and saw Snape's dig for exactly what it wasn't. Snape wasn't trying to insult him with it, he was trying to protect himself from, perhaps, the pain of admitting that he had been wrong about Harry, or maybe it was the fact that he had comforted Harry when he'd needed it, and he couldn't sit with that for too long.

Whatever it was, Harry was grateful for it.

"For future reference, Potter, I do not typically answer a summons when I am at Hogwarts, unless it is a weekend and Dumbledore can allow me to get away. Your _concern _was unwarranted and will forever remain unwarranted. Just so you are aware."

"But you did feel it then, he did summon you?"

Snape met Harry's eyes hard for a moment before he, finally, gave a curt nod in response.

"Is he going to be angry with you for not-"

"It is none of your business-"

"You're right, it's not, but I'll find out anyway, won't I?"

"Not if you ever decide to stop wasting my time and become successful at _closing your mind,_" Snape hissed, for the first time realizing that Harry might very well get the answers that he wanted through the nightmares or..._visions _that came his way. Granted, his nightmares focused more on Vernon, and he hadn't had any sort of insight to Voldemort in a while, but he was sure that it would all happen again when the problem was severe enough.

Snape seemed to realize it too.

They were silent for a while, silent until Harry finally stood and Snape shook himself out of his own head.

As Harry made to leave, Snape spoke again, but Harry did not turn around to see if he meant what he said.

"I did hate your father, but I don't hate you."


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters or the world they're in, that belongs to the illustrious J.K Rowling!

I hope you guys are liking it so far. Thanks again for reviewing, I always take them to heart and I try to do my best with what you guys give me!

Usual warnings on this chapter, perhaps triggering.

Happy reading!

* * *

Severus didn't know why he had said it.

No, that wasn't true. He knew why he'd said it, he just couldn't believe he'd let himself get _soft._ Because that was exactly what it had been, it had been a weakness. He had seen Harry crumbling in front of him, he had seen him losing _any _sort of hope he had at getting through this-he had seen minor changes in Harry during their lessons. He'd seen a determination in him, he'd seen a _will _to defeat the Dark Lord, he'd seen Harry's _will _to fight...and not just for everyone else, but Severus had been sure a part of Harry had been desperate to fight for himself too.

He couldn't watch the child lose all his hope as quickly as it seemed to have been pouring out of him through his words, he'd known that sort of desperation before, he'd known it first hand.

And he had meant every word. He _did _hate James Potter, still, to this very day. Dead he might be, but someone that haunted Severus still. It was a deep seeded childhood hate, harbored by years of being indebted to a woman he had loved, his once dearest friend-

The Headmaster had been completely disgusted with him when he'd gone to beg for Lily's life, he'd been disgusted that Severus would just cast off the child and the man Lily loved as well-he had not had it in him then to have respected her choices...he had it in him now, though, to make up for the mistake he'd made all those years ago in pleading with the Dark Lord to spare her, and only her.

Had he had any ounce of courage then, he would have begged and died for them all.

At least now he could ease his own self-loathing with the knowledge that he had assured their son that he did not hate him.

Brilliant, truly. Brilliant that he thought something so trivial and mediocre would make up for the cowardice he had shown in his youth.

A part of him did hate Harry Potter, but only because he showed an arrogant, pigheaded disregard for his own bloody _skin. _He would sacrifice himself for the world, blindly, if he thought it would help. He was a sixteen year old boy with more courage than he had had in his twenties. Things were different now, being dubbed a coward had not suited him, and he had changed to suit the bravery Albus often made note of in order to make him feel less hopeless than he did when rarely expressed in uncharacteristically weak moments.

He was _not _a coward. He was _not _weak...but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why he felt so bloody _terrified _over the prospect of Harry knowing that he didn't hate him. If anything, he should have taken satisfaction in knowing that this might bring Harry to trust him more, which would in turn, improve their lessons, and eventually he'd see much less of...of _Potter_.

Bloody Albus and his manipulative tricks-he'd lulled himself into a false sense of security by calling the boy _Harry. _Potter was far more distancing.

He was only supposed to train Potter. Train him and keep him alive.

He didn't need the burden of feeling anything even remotely close to _kinship _for the boy.

Severus reached up and undid the top buttons of his shirt, the ones that felt like they could strangle him if they wanted to. His arm was burning, a constant reminder of what he was, what he was missing-and clearly, Ha-_Potter _thought it was something important. Now, normally, he would have chalked Potter's impulsiveness up to attention-seeking, but the sheer shock and awe on his face when Severus had appeared behind him had been enough to stop those insults from rolling off of his tongue.

As he removed his cloak from his shoulders and dropped into the chair behind his desk, Severus found himself vaguely drawn to thoughts of Potter. And not anything even remotely insulting came to mind. Not initially.

Seeing the boy faint like he had, and whether it be from sheer pain or the exhaustion of trying to keep his mind free of the Dark Lord's infiltration, had disarmed him. He had immediately responded, kept him from falling to the ground and remained close in case he should slip from where Severus had propped him. In those moments, Severus had noticed a few things about Potter that he hadn't before.

Not only had the _boy _grown into more of a _man__, _but he had inherited a few more of his mother's features than anyone ever really cared to point out. He had Lily's eyes, that much was certain. He had known that the moment he'd first laid eyes on Potter. While he had his father's hair, the unruly mop he could never quite seem to keep tame, not that Severus even thought he _tried_, he had Lily's cheekbones, they were high and prominent, elegant in a way that James Potter had never been.

_Elegant. _Severus was going to make himself sick.

Potter was lean, too lean, mayhaps, but Severus had seen him at mealtimes more regularly, he had seen _effort _on Potter's part to rebuild what had been taken from him, summer after summer. Nutrition that would have allowed him to grow into his full potential, he should have been taller, but Severus supposed it was for the right that he wasn't. After all, being as short and as slight as he was would make him a smaller target in battle. He had been watching Harry, unbeknownst to him, of course, take the broken parts of himself and eradicate them completely, to erase any memory of the hole he'd been dug (and for the first time, Severus was beginning to see that Harry hadn't _entirely_ dug it alone). Albus had helped. The Dark Lord was essential. Potter's mutt godfather had done some digging for him, too.

Potter's downfall would not be brought on by himself alone, but by the people surrounding him.

Along with the ever-present reminder that the Dark Lord would haunt his every waking (and sleeping) moment.

Severus ripped himself from further thoughts of the...the witless _boy _and pulled open one of his desk drawers, removed a bottle of Firewhiskey, conjured a glass, and poured himself a stiff drink that he swallowed in one.

He wasn't the type to lose himself at the bottom of a bottle, or even a glass, it was far too dangerous for him to let his guard down like that, but every _once _in a while, he could stand to have a moment like this in his office. _Privately, _of course. He flicked his wand again to be sure the door was locked (it always was, but he would forever double-check). At least, here, he could garner himself with a few moments to be, as Potter had once put it, _fucking human._

* * *

Harry couldn't sleep.

He had begged off early, just after filling Ron and Hermione in on what had happened.

Of course, he'd left off the bit about running to Snape and fainting in his office. He'd left out what Snape had said to him just before he'd walked out the door. In all honesty, Harry didn't know why he'd felt compelled to keep that from them. It wouldn't have been a big deal, they knew he was working with Snape, he could have easily played it off. Hermione would have thought it was the right thing to do, she would have burst with something like, "_Oh-I'm _proud_ of you, Harry! You've really been working so hard and it's all pay off when you can keep Voldemort out of your mind for good!" _And Ron, Ron would have been skeptical, he would have turned his nose up at the thought of Harry running to Snape, of all people, but he would have accepted it, if for no other reason than to support him._  
_

But Harry wouldn't take that as an out. It would be far too easy for Harry to tell himself that he was essentially lying to his friends because he didn't want to disappoint them with his ineptitude (_had he gotten that word from Snape?_) and his _weakness. _It was easier for him to admit to shame than it was for him to admit the fact that something about his interaction with Snape had felt _private,_ far too private to tell either of them. It was hard for him to admit that Snape's opinion was important to him, and he had finally gotten approval that truly meant something to him because it had been _honest, _and it hadn't been about the prophecy, or his fate, or what he was meant for...it had just been about _him._

It had been nice while it had lasted.

But things couldn't be about him forever.

He lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores coming from Ron and the murmuring that Seamus was making in the corner. He had tried counting sheep, tried running over quidditch moves in his head, had gone through all the new spells he'd learned and still, he couldn't find it in himself to sleep.

Harry found his mind wandering back to Snape, of all people. Snape who didn't hate him, Snape who didn't think he was like his father as much as everyone else seemed to, Snape who saw him for what he was, and nothing more. That was all he wanted, really, to be _Harry. _Just _Harry_.

But he could settle for Potter.

It was as comforting a thought as it was unsettling, that Snape, of all bloody people, was the one who had finally gave him what he truly wanted, and without any pretense that Harry wanted it. When he finally drifted off somewhere between four and five in the morning, his dreams weren't as terrifying as they usually were. They weren't flashbacks starring Vernon and Voldemort wasn't attacking anyone he loved, but _Snape_ was in them and Snape was kind in his own terrifying way. He almost felt safe in his dreams then, he didn't feel as if his mind were constantly under attack.

Maybe he should have tried to block them out, he was far too trusting of these suddenly "_safe" _dreams. He told himself even as he opened his mind further and let them in. The dreams didn't stay safe, not for long. The moment he let his guard down completely and found himself fully embraced by sleep, Harry felt an unconscious change, and his dreams turned to nightmares.

They started with Cedric. Cedric in the graveyard, alive and then dead, and pleading for Harry to take his body back to his father. _What a request_ that had been, no last words, no "_Tell my parents I love them,_" tell "_Cho she was a great girl,_" he had just wanted his body brought back. His _body, _at seventeen, Cedric had had to request for his dead, lifeless body to be brought back. It was Harry's fault he was dead. It had been Harry that had almost played with the idea of leaving him behind, Harry who had decided they should take the cup together- it had been his fault that Cedric had been murdered, Harry was the one Voldemort had wanted, Cedric had been collateral damage.

The dream didn't stop where it usually did, it jumped to Cedric screaming at him, chasing him through a maze of overgrown hedges and dead ends where snakes were waiting to swallow him up like Devil's Snare. More than once he found himself falling through a bed of snakes into a cold dark chamber, but the dream always launched to Sirius as he was falling, and in turn, he watched Sirius fall through the veil on repeat.

The moment Vernon showed up, Harry began thrashing as he normally did, he was used to guilt, used to blame-he could sleep through those parts of his nightmares, but it was the bit with Vernon that always messed with him. He didn't know this, didn't know where the thrashing began or if it ever stopped, but even in his unconscious he was fighting Vernon, trying to get rid of the memories, trying to fight off the nightmares that he'd all but welcomed in by letting his guard down.

Having this connection with Voldemort's mind was a poison, Voldemort poisoned his every move, whether or not the monster was conscious of it. Voldemort's innate evil clawed at Harry every day, it seeped into his skin and through his veins and tainted every good thing in his life. A good dream turned into a nightmare, a chance at a proper life..._never._

He couldn't shoved the nightmares away once they started, he never could, but he couldn't wake himself either. Even Vernon's insults, slurred at him in parseltongue (they were even more guttural and horrible that way) didn't wake him, and he re-lived the worst rape he'd been through at the Dursley's.

_Vernon had always been rough with him but that time had been different._

And, when he woke, plagued by exhaustion, Harry reeked of something hopeless. But it wasn't just that, no, it was far worse. He didn't want to get out of bed, he didn't want to bloody move. He _loathed _himself, every part of himself. He wasn't his father, sure, but he was so much worse. He'd killed Cedric, he'd killed Sirius, a countless number of people had died for him, for something he was supposed to be good for. He couldn't protect himself from his own bloody dreams, how in the fuck could he be expected to kill Voldemort? He couldn't protect himself from an obese _muggle _he was useless. He felt _useless._

Harry could have done with a few more hours of sleep, but there wasn't a chance of it after everything. If only he had thought to book the pitch a few hours later-if he had just had the mind to hold practice off until after lunch he would have been able to get himself in the mindset for quidditch, he would have had time to ward off the nausea and disgust that had settled its way into the pit of his stomach.

He was pathetic for letting himself believe he could be happy over something, pathetic for believing in the thought that he might actually be worth something more than he was fated for.

_Disgusting, gluttonous, whore-_

He shook the voice of his Uncle, shook the bitter thoughts from his head and tried hard not to tell himself that he might very well be good for something _else_, the very _else _that made him sick to his stomach and had him mounting his broom quicker than the rest of the team and kicking off hard from the ground so that Vernon's voice wasn't as loud and vicious in his ears as the wind was.

The longer practice wore on, the worse Harry began to feel, the worse he was beginning to lose himself in his thoughts (or perhaps he would have done well to eat something). More than once Ginny had flown by him and asked if he was alright, told him he needed to wake up or he'd fall off of his broom.

Gods, he _didn't deserve _to be on the team, let alone captain of it. Try-outs had been a mess, but he'd managed to get a decent team together, if only they could find themselves a better seeker...

He didn't deserve a happiness to waste time on, not when there was so much else he was supposed to be working towards-he was just going to let his team down this year, if he forced his happiness on them. He was a dead weight, and anyone dragging him along was bound to be picked off for it.

There was something miserable about him then, something dejected and painful aching in his chest. It wasn't his heart. It just _hurt, _it knocked all the wind out of him-

"HARRY!"

-he had never understood this sort of self-loathing before, he had never had a _word _for it, but in that moment, Harry Potter realized with astounding clarity that he _hated _himself more than anything.

Harry had seen the bludger as it was coming, he had heard his teammates calling out to him, but he found himself unmoved as it came towards him, he could have easily blamed it on zoning out, on being too _exhausted _because of his extra lessons, he wasn't worried about what anyone would think.

He just wanted to _hurt, _he needed to hurt. He couldn't stand himself and if a bludger to the chest would help him feel anything remotely like what he had done to other people, he would take it ten fold.

"_CATCH HIM_, RON!" Ginny was screaming, as Ron had already started after him and she couldn't urge her broom any faster and Harry was already slipping sideways off of his broom and his eyes were closing and he was sure that the wind was whipping through his ears, everything was black, and the last thing he heard were the screams of his teammates.

* * *

**A/N:** I took the liberty of "telling" with this chapter, and I feel like I'm cheating by getting into Snape's head like I do here, but I feel like I just need to clarify where Snape's head it at right now, in regards to Harry. Hopefully I haven't cheated you guys of the mystery too much?

And hey, I'd seriously like to hear what you guys think about my portrayal of Snape so far, suggestions are always always always welcomed!


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters, or the world they are in. I'm messing with the plot loads, and let's be real, it's got nothing on J.K Rowling's talent!

WOW, guys, first I just have to say how much I appreciate the reviews. A bunch of you got back to me about my portrayal of Severus and I really took it all to heart so I hope this chapter continues in the way that you all want to see things develop! I'm genuinely grateful that you guys take the time to let me know what you think (you know who you are ;)

And of course, trigger warnings in this chapter. Harry's a bit depressed, there are gonna be some mentions of abuse.

Also, guys, I just realized a major fuck up on my part. I have that Angelina is the captain of the Gryffindor team, but seeing as she graduated last year, I've gone back and fixed things up so that Harry can take his proper spot as Captain. What's another burden on the Boy Who Lived, right? So, just to clarify, Harry _is_ captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, I had to make a few minor edits to do in order to make that happen, but you heard it from me yourself: Harry is captain here, as he is in the books.

Cool? Cool.

Sorry this took me forever, school has been a bit hectic.

Once again, thank you so much, and happy reading!

* * *

Albus Dumbledore stood just outside the infirmary, along with Professor's McGonogall, Snape, and Flitwick, who had just happened to be passing by when all hell had broken loose. The entirety of the Gryffindor quidditch team, save for Ron Weasley, who was dutifully perched at Harry's bedside with Hermione, had been blabbing incessantly about what had happened.

Severus knew what had happened.

"It was lucky that you were there, Severus," Albus offered quietly and he gave the old man a curt nod of agreement. _Lucky_ was one word for it.

Snape had, essentially, saved Harry's life (again) in the nick of time. He had watched from afar with the Slytherin team as they made their way out to the pitch, Draco had asked him to come along and ensure they got their _full _allotted practice time in, seeing as the Gryffindor team had no regard or _courtesy _for the rules and liked to practice over their own allotment, Severus hadn't seen any harm in going along.

A part of him had genuinely hoped to catch sight of Potter _flying _again, and really flying, not just the memories of it, or the thought of freedom in general, but it would have been appealing to see the truth of it written on Harry's movements. Flying a broom, Snape had come to learn these past few weeks, was the only thing that Potter ever took pride in, if he garnered the time to take pride in it at all.

What he had arrived on, was not at all what he had expected.

Surely, he'd expected to see Potter showing off, or rather, _enjoying _himself in the air on the broom that his mutt godfather had purchased to sequester Slytherin's chance at the cup-but that was not what he'd seen at all.

There had been hardly any time to react, he could see the cluster of Gryffindors flying at Harry's lifeless body as it tumbled through the air, there was bound to be another accident if he didn't _stop it _before it got any further.

A part of him hoped, at least, that Potter would know he'd done it, not because the savior of the Wizarding World was plummeting to his untimely death (or a perilous injury), but because _Harry, just Harry, _was. Saving him had nothing to do with the promises he'd made, or the necessity of keeping Potter in the war, and it had everything to do with the fact that Severus couldn't simply sit back and _let _it happen, despite the quiet urging he'd pretended not to hear from the more malicious of the group.

_Let him die, we'll have no competition for the cup-_

_Oh, fuck the cup, the Dark Lord would be-_

A sharp look from none other than Draco Malfoy had shut both Urquhart and Vaisey up immediately. Severus would have commented himself, but he'd only had the time to raise his wand and slow Potter's fall to a stop.

The damage had been extraordinary, when Severus had reached close enough, he was certain that Harry's chest had all but caved in, his breathing had been extremely labored.

Gryffindor's beater was sobbing still, saying that he hadn't meant to, that he had just knocked the bludger out of the way so that it wouldn't hit Ginny, and Ginny was patting him on the shoulder, red-faced and holding back tears herself.

Severus didn't understand why they were still bloody crying, it had been essentially terrifying, at first, but Harry was going to be fine, Poppy had announced that to all of them herself an hour ago. The students weren't under an investigation, as some of them seemed to believe with their ramrod straight postures and 'professional' declarations of circumstance.

"You are telling me, Miss Weasley, that Mr. Potter simply _froze_?" Minerva was asking again, something about it wasn't settling with any of them, but her especially, "He's a well-conditioned quidditch player, and he froze in the direct path of a bludger?" As Ginny nodded, Minerva's lips pursed and she turned towards Albus as if at a loss, but Albus was looking at Snape.

He was being far too quiet, he knew as much, but he would rather not voice his opinions in front of a pack of arrogant Gryffindors.

Harry had seemed...alright the night before, when he'd left his office, but had something happened between then and the moment he supposedly "froze"? No, Severus didn't buy that Potter had merely "froze". It went deeper than that, and if what he believed was true, they had something far worse on their hands.

"I need a word, Headmaster. In private."

Snape's voice shocked the rest of them into a frenzy, they were tripping over their words again, trying to explain the story from the start, but Severus had seen it happen for himself, he didn't need another explanation.

He had to tell the Headmaster what he knew, what he'd seen. What he'd rescued Harry from over the summer. Surely, Dumbledore knew there was a certain degree of neglect at the Dursley's, but Severus was _sure _he didn't know how far the neglect went and where the abuse had started. This could only be a product of that, if Harry was struggling to come to terms with what those Muggle-pigs had done to him, and if _this _had been how he dealt with it-

"Of course, Professor Snape, this way-" Albus seemed like he knew there was more to the story than anyone had been able to let on, just yet, and the prospect of hearing it from Severus himself was one that enticed him-

Alas, before Severus could follow him down the hall for a chamber more private and less privy to overzealous, eavesdropping little _lions, _the Infirmary door burst open, and Poppy was trying to quietly break up the crowd before she told them Harry Potter had woken up.

Potter was markedly good at saving his secrets when it came down to it, Severus could at least give him that.

A quick glance and a nod was all it took for Severus to know this was a conversation they would have to have later. Madam Pomfrey barred the quidditch team from coming in all at once, and it wasn't until they had all checked in on Harry that Snape found himself at Potter's bedside with Minerva and Albus.

"Mr. Potter needs more rest," Madam Pomfrey insisted as Weasley and Granger made intent motions to _stay_, but because there appeared no clear way for them to have leverage here, Ron stood and told Harry they would come back as soon as they were _allowed _(and the red-headed arrogant little fool gave Snape a look of absolute abhorrence, as if it were _his _personal fault they were being kicked out). Oblivious to this exchange, Hermione leaned over to give Harry a kiss on the cheek, to which he flinched away markedly and let out a sharp cry of _pain_ that had Madam Pomfrey starting forward quickly and Harry flinching further away all the more.

"Oh, _no_! I'm so sorry, Harry, did I hurt you? I didn't mean to-!" Miss Granger was reduced to tears again and Ron led her gently from the room, a gesture that Harry watched apologetically. It hadn't been Miss Granger's fault, Severus and Harry both knew that.

Once they were gone, Harry seemed to deflate. For a moment, Severus believed that Harry was about to reduce himself to nothing amongst the bed-linens, but then Albus spoke, and Harry face steeled into a firm mask void of anything that Snape would have hoped to read. _He is getting good at that_, Snape noted in his agitation. It was becoming hard for him to read the boy before him, especially so when _he _was the one teaching Harry to avoid eye contact or any contact at all to block off his mind from an intruder.

Severus did not look around to Albus when he spoke, he kept his eyes trained on Harry and found, with surprise, that Albus seemed to be struggling to read him too. Harry was more intent on deflecting the Headmasters gentle prods on his mind than he was intent on Snape's. If anything, it suggested more of a fear for the Headmaster than _himself_, and _that _was a peculiar thought to Snape. Or rather, it should have been, but Snape knew far more than the Headmaster now in regards to Harry. It was hard for Snape to process that he might know more about Dumbledore's Golden Boy than Dumbledore knew himself, and a part of him, and only for a moment, wondered if Albus _did _know. It wouldn't have been the first time Snape would have felt _wronged _by the Headmaster. If it came to light that he had known what Potter was suffering through the entire time he'd lived with his Aunt and Uncle, it would have felt like one of the _worst_._  
_

It was a jarring thought to him, realizing that he had found a morsel in his _heart _that could care for Harry Potter, of all people, it was jarring, but it did not deter his efforts to invade the boys mind and, in turn, his privacy.

"Would you like to tell us what happened, Harry?" Dumbledore inquired, not unkindly, though Severus had known him long enough to hear the off-note in his voice. The only other time (that Severus knew of) when Dumbledore didn't know what was going through the head of one of his students was in regards to the Dark Lord himself._  
_

Harry's eyes darted immediately to Professor Snape at Dumbledore's question-he hadn't meant to do it, but he had just been struck with the idea that Snape could easily call him out for lying if he tried to work up some ridiculous story as to why he'd been knocked off his broom, Snape could see through him, he'd told Harry as much before, and Harry was only more sure of it when he met the black onyx eyes of his Occlumency teacher.

Snape _knew. _And if he outed him then and there, Dumbledore would know too, Dumbledore would want to know _why, _and that would open up an endless corridor of doors that reminded Harry all too much of the Department of Mysteries.

"No, Professor, I wouldn't-most of it's foggy, anyway. I'm sure the team told it better than I could," Harry said quietly with a display of modesty sickening enough that Snape wanted to smirk, but instead he pursed his lips at the hoarseness in his voice. _Quite the actor, aren't you, Potter? _Snape thought to himself, mildly impressed at the boy's easy deflection._  
_

"I see, very well, nothing to be done for that, I suppose. It's best you rest-"

"Could I talk to Professor Snape, sir?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at that, and with a half turn to Severus, he spoke, "I think you'd have to ask him that yourself, he is standing right before you, after all?"

Harry's cheeks flushed crimson and Dumbledore excused himself after that, leaving him with Snape.

Harry fixed his eyes somewhere between Snape's chin and his shoulders, it was easier not to look at him, not when he suddenly felt so _guilty _under Snape's glare.

"Is there a reason you wanted to speak with me or are you to continue staring in silence?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but the words were stuck in his throat so he closed it again and looked away helplessly. This was worse than he'd thought it would be. Snape just looked so angry with him, like he wasn't sure whether to blame him or strangle him for having been so reckless- unless he knew, or thought he knew -

"Did you do this on purpose?" Snape's question didn't catch him off guard, but all the same his eyes flicked quickly in the man's direction, shame and guilt written fresh all over his face. He wouldn't say it. He couldn't- _it was pathetic._

_Almost as pathetic as getting fucked like a pig by Vernon-_

The thought came so sharply through him that it felt like he'd been cut and he moved as if to get up to give himself space but pain shot through his chest, a sharp gasp of pain tore through his lips, and then Snape's hands were on him, holding him back against the bed. Where Snape had been trying to help, Harry only saw stars as the strong slender hand of his Potion's Master made contact with the very spot on his chest that the Skele-gro Madam Pomfrey had given him was trying to mend.

The pain, however, distracted him from thoughts of Vernon and the feel of hands, a _man's _hands on him. The pain kept him from associating Snape's gesture with other moments like this, moments where his Uncle had dug his beefy fingers hard against his arms and pinned him down with brutal force.

Snape's hands lacked that brutal force, too. Instead of focusing on the pain in his chest, he was suddenly focusing on the feel of Snape's _hands. _Despite the fact that his chest felt as if it were on fire, Snape's hands were _gentle_. They were tender, but firm, as if trying to stop him from causing himself more pain. They were long and slender, as if his fingers had been worn long by playing the piano. His hands felt cool through the thing hospital gown compared to the heat Harry was giving off.

"You have a fever, Potter, and you are to rest. That means no _moving,_" Snape instructed him in a cool, velvety voice that had Harry settling back agreeably against the pillows he had propped under him, "We're going to _talk_, and by talk I mean you will listen and speak when I ask it of you, is that clear?"

Harry said nothing, there was no way out of this. He owed Snape an explanation, he'd devoted his free time these past few weeks to training him, and Harry had been so ready to throw it all away, for _nothing__._

He was so _selfish_._  
_

"Did you do this on purpose?"

Harry opened his mouth briefly before closing it and dropping his eyes.

"You did, then. Why?"

Harry shook his head and swallowed thickly.

"I asked you a question, I expect an answer."

Harry's lips felt wired shut, and even if he had the ability to _open _his mouth, he wouldn't have the words to offer Professor Snape. Frankly, it was none of his business. He didn't have to worry, he was alive and well (albeit, not so well) his plan hadn't worked the way it was supposed to, and now he could carry out what he was here for. _  
_

Maybe after that, maybe he'd have another chance, maybe it would all end up killing him in the end.

"Don't force my hand, Potter."

"_Harry, my name is Harry,_" he blurted without thinking, a flash of frustration because here Snape was, trying to pick at the most private places of his mind, and he still saw him as no less than a _surname__. _Here, in this moment, Snape was asking him to be desperately human, he wanted Harry to bare his weaknesses so he could pick at them, and he wouldn't even address him by his _name_.

Professor Snape, for the first time since Harry had ever known him, gave a flash of emotion so cutting that Harry's face fell further, if it were possible, and he was sure that he'd crossed a line he wouldn't come back from.

"Harry, then. Tell me why, Harry," Professor Snape insisted in earnest, his expression even again.

"I _can't_," Harry muttered weakly and he met Snape's eyes then, with the sudden realization that he was _so close _and his hands were still on him but they weren't there to _hurt _him, only to keep him from hurting himself. "I can't say it," Harry tried again, his voice more pronounced now. He knew what his words sounded like, and he knew he wasn't going to get out of this, and he was slowly resigning his determination, but he couldn't say it.

He would _force _Snape's hand, he would _allow _it.

Professor Snape sat up straight then and dropped his hands from Harry without a second thought, "Contrary to what I usually tell you, Harry, _do not _clear your mind, for this."

At the start, there was resistance, Harry was naturally inclined to defend himself now, if anything, it was a mark of his progress. But it wasn't about his progress now, it was about relinquishing that control to someone he _trusted._ As curious as it was, Harry trusted Severus Snape, and with that thought- he found his walls breaking away, piece by piece, until he could feel Snape in his head.

It was a strange sensation, to feel Snape poking and prodding _gently _as opposed to the full-fledged attacks he was used to during lessons.

And he _felt _as helpless as he had in the air during quidditch practice with all the thoughts running through his head that Snape was seeing right now. Flashes of Cedric, Sirius, the muggles he'd read about in the Prophet, the _guilt _that came along with it all because they were on _him_. They were his fucking fault, he had caused them _all, _as a product of simply _existing_. It would have laughably been his greatest success to have _died _so that Voldemort would stop chasing him and killing all the people he loved.

Then there was the guilt that came with wanting to die since it was essentially up to him to kill Voldemort and save everyone else- how could he want to give up so _badly_?

The answers to that flashed through his mind again.

_Uncle Vernon_ smearing Harry with blood from his own wounds, his uncle, tearing him apart from the inside out each time he had _raped _him._  
_

His uncle, telling him he was useless, worthless, a disgusting gluttonous pig, selfish and despicable- _better off dead- _

And then he saw the bludger colliding with him again, he was falling from his broom and starting forward with a shout before Snape's hands were bracing him again.

"It's over, Harry, that's enough," Snape urged and held him still until the rising and falling of his chest was more controlled and less panicked.

Neither of them said anything for a while and, oddly enough, it was exactly what Harry needed.

Severus's hand had slid down the length of Harry's arm and settled against the forearm Harry had alongside him on the cot. Vaguely, Harry realized that Severus's hand wasn't cold nor intruding. Instead, it was warm, and _comforting_, it relaxed him until his eyes began to close, and before either of them thought to break the silence, Harry fell into a dreamless sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or the setting they are in, that belongs to J.K Rowling! I'm just messing around with them a lot.

Okay, I know this chapter is super duper short but I just wanted to let you guys know I haven't forgotten about this story, I've just been busy with school and work, is all!

Thank you all so much for reviewing, I can't tell you guys how much it means to me to hear from you! I definitely am more inspired when I have reviews so, this chapters goes out to you guys.

Thanks again, and happy reading!

* * *

A part of him was immensely grateful that someone, _finally_, knew what was going on inside his head all the time. But the fact that it was Snape, whether or not Harry _trusted _him, was unsettling. What if Snape didn't understand and wrote him off as _insane_, or a lost cause? What if he went to _Dumbledore_? It had seemed like something he could handle last night, the aftermath of coming out about it all, but suddenly it felt like the fallout of everything, and this was the purgatory period before he met his consequences.

Of course, he wasn't really sure how Snape had reacted to it, since he'd fallen asleep last night and the man had been gone when Harry woke, but a part of him hoped that all his worry was for _nothing_. Especially because he couldn't stand the fucking thought of Dumbledore knowing the details, the dirty, shameful ones-Dumbledore had known of the neglect, he'd admitted as much once before, but he and Harry had wordlessly come to an understanding. He would endure summers at the Dursley's for their protection, because being alive was the most important thing. If Dumbledore had known with certainty what Harry had really been going through, surely he would have saved him from it.

_Surely. _

Harry knew just how the Headmaster would have looked at him, too, if he'd known- eyes full of sympathy and pity and guilt- the same eyes that Harry had seen before from him. Time and time again, really, but most notoriously after Sirius had died and Harry had destroyed the trinkets in Dumbledore's office like it had been his fucking destiny to do so.

Harry had tried to talk himself out of feeling manipulated, but that had been what Dumbledore had done to him, right? Effectively taking all the blame for Sirius's death, knowing that Harry would have still been plagued by guilt, would give Harry the drive to want to do what he was meant for. It would give Harry no time to grieve, and more time to _fight_. And the only time he stopped fighting was when he returned to the Dursley's for the summer and Dumbledore didn't _need _him. The fight had been beaten out of him at the Durlsey's and had always stopped to give him just enough time to build back up. Harry had been conditioned for this life, and giving Dumbledore- one of the closest father figures he'd had, any reason to believe Harry incapable, furthermore being a _disappointment._

Snape couldn't have gone to Dumbledore, Harry didn't want to deal with any of that. He didn't need the pity, the declarations of guilt and love, the apologies- he needed to _grieve _and be human over it. He needed to be _upset_. It couldn't keep exploding out of him the way it was, because it was _dangerous. _

If Snape could just have, at the very least, written the whole thing off as one of Harry's usual antics, laced with self-pity and a pathetic show, Harry could get this under control on his own. In his own ways, without the bullshit the came after confessing one's deep dark secrets (and the only time he had ever come close was with Ron and Hermione). Why, _why_ he had chosen _Snape_, of all people, Harry couldn't figure out.

But maybe, in the long run, he would.

Harry had managed to sleep soundly through the entire night, a feat he hadn't been able to accomplish in ages, and with all that, the Skele-gro had worked its magic and his bones were mended enough that Madam Pomfrey had agreed (at the urgent insistence of his arguments) that he could return to classes, so long as he stopped by at lunch and before dinner to make sure everything was moving along alright.

His first class was double potions, and he was glad to pull open the Half Blood Prince's manual, to run his fingertips over the scrawling on the pages, to study the spells this absolute _genius _had worked out. _Levicorpus _and _Muffliato _were all spells that had become of general use to him over the past couple of months or they would in the future. He hadn't tried out _Sectumsempra _yet, but there was something foreboding about the way his instructor had written _"for enemies" _alongside it. Well, Malfoy was an enemy, sure...but what was it that Mr. Weasley had said in his second year to Ginny?

_Don't trust anything if you can't see where it thinks._

But this was different, wasn't it?

He made it through double potions with full marks for the day to Hermione's annoyance, but she was relieved enough to see him _alive _after yesterday's _accident _that she didn't make a comment about it in his direction.

Now he had to get through double defense with the Slytherin's. And Snape.

He would have been lying if he'd said he wasn't nervous (and mortified) at the prospect of seeing Snape after what had transpired the night before in the Hospital Wing, but the majority of him was more curious to know what was coming _next_. How would Snape see him, and what would he _do _now?

In typical fashion, they practiced new spells non-verbally.

Harry wasn't paired with Malfoy, in fact, he was paired curiously with Neville who seemed relieved that his partner was Harry, until Harry caught him off-guard with _Levicorpus _and he was hanging upside so suddenly that he started choking on air. Harry desperately thought the countercurse, but Neville was already falling and landing rather ungracefully on a cushion that had appeared out of nowhere, and Snape had appeared too.

"Class dismissed. Not you, Potter, _stay._"


End file.
